


Al Dente

by belial



Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: Alpha!Jim, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, And Jim Wants Him Anyway, And She Thinks Ozzie is Adorable, And She’s a Sorceress, Animagus Bestiality, Baby Werewolves, Barbara Kean is a BAMF, Bondage, Canon-Typical Violence, Dom/sub, Full Shift Werewolves, Jim Gordon is a BAMF, Jim and Barbara are BFFs, Jim and Barbara are Not Dating, Knotting, M/M, Mates, Omega!Oswald, Oswald is Nothing But Trouble, Romance, Slash, Supernatural Elements, Werewolves
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-12
Updated: 2017-03-15
Packaged: 2018-03-30 06:19:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 39,140
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3926086
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/belial/pseuds/belial
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Oswald Cobblepot makes a deal with Don Falcone to save his own life: give seemingly-honest Detective Jim Gordon the decision to spare Oswald’s life.  But when Oswald meets the detective face-to-face, he’s not prepared for the shock of meeting a supernatural being… or that he’s the perfect match for Jim Gordon in so many ways.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. ‘Scent’sational

**Author's Note:**

> Notes: This story is written in Oswald’s POV. I do not remotely try to follow canon with this, so be warned – I have taken some dialogue straight from the pier scene, but changed it to fit my story. Also, there’s some reasonably graphic violence in this, but probably nothing worse than you’d see on the show itself. I think.
> 
> Notes 2: I’ve taken a mix of “Teen Wolf” style werewolf facts, other werewolf facts, A/B/O facts, and made things up because I felt like it. In cooking, “al dente” describes pasta that is cooked to be firm to the bite. The etymology is Italian _"to the tooth."_ I found it very appropriate for a title.
> 
>  **Warnings: A/B/O Dynamics, Knotting, Bestiality. If you don’t know what these things are, I would suggest a Google search before reading.  
> **  
>  Disclaimer: I do not own the fandom, characters, etc. I make no profit from this. No offense intended.

When the trunk pops open, Oswald throws both his hands up in self-defense, begs, “Please, please I beg of you…”

“Shut up!” Bullock snarls. The cop turns his attention away from Oswald, looks to Jim. “This is the fool that snitched to Montoya and Allen. Falcone wants you to walk him to the end of that pier and put a bullet in his head. Then everybody knows you’re with the program.”

In a low, angry voice, Jim growls, “And if I don’t?”

“Then I’m supposed to take you out, and him too. And here’s the thing Jim, I like you. I might not have the stomach to do it, but I’ll try. Cause if I don’t, someone will get to you quick enough. Then they’re gonna get to me, and probably Barbara as well. Who knows what you told her.”

“I told her nothing!”

Oswald shakes at the violence in his tone. Oh God, what if he’d misjudged Detective Gordon? What if the man really was going to kill him? 

“You think Falcone cares?” Bullock snaps back, startling Oswald from his worrying. “Come on. You’ve killed people before.”

“That was war!”

“This is war! We’re at war with scumbags like him! Sometimes in war you’ve gotta do a bad thing to do good, right? So do you do this bad thing, or do you die, and maybe your girl dies? I might be lackadaisical, but that’s not a tough call.” 

Oswald’s still shaking when Jim pulls him from the trunk, lifts him like he didn’t weigh an ounce. He pulls Oswald closer to him, and there’s something in his eyes… a look. Oswald doesn’t know what it is, but his eyes seem to… flash? Between brilliant blue and red, and Oswald, already scared out of his mind, drops his eyes to the ground and tips his head to one side.

Jim inhales. The sound’s loud in the sudden stillness. Jim shakes his head once and takes a gun from Bullock’s hand. He growls, “Walk.”

Oswald limps towards the end of the pier, grabbing his broken kneecap, struggling to keep his feet. He pleads, “Please, Mr. Gordon! Just let me live!”

Gordon walks him right to the edge of the pier, leaves no space between them when Oswald reaches the water. “Listen to me,” the Detective growls in his face. “I want you to offer me a blow job. Now. Your life depends on it, hit your knees.”

Oswald makes an embarrassing squeak, blinks at the detective with wide eyes. What did he just hear? 

“Now!” Jim snarls, and this time… this time his eyes really are red, Oswald is not hallucinating this, he’s not, so what in the name of God is going on?

He doesn’t have any other options, so he hits his knees, sobbing at the pain of the impact. “Please! I’ll… I’ll do whatever you say, I’ll be your slave for life!”

Gordon grabs him by the throat, chokes the breath out of him. “You will, will you? Hey, Harvey!” Gordon calls. “I believe your snitch wants to make me a counteroffer.”

“Jim…”

Gordon grins, and it’s a slow, sexy, evil grin that has Oswald wanting to run as fast as his crippled legs will take him. “Give me ten minutes, and then come back. I’ll wait to kill him so you get to see it.”

“Are you serious?” Bullock voices the question that Oswald can’t get out. “Jim!”

To further shock Oswald’s delicate sensibilities, Gordon rubs his thumb across Oswald’s mouth, and Oswald can’t help but moan at the rough treatment. He gives the digit a kitten lick, tasting gunpowder and feeling the rough texture of calluses, and oh God, what is wrong with him? He’s going to die, but Gordon’s manhandling is turning him on?

“Good boy,” the detective rumbles. “God, you’re going to respond beautifully, aren’t you?”

“Jim, we don’t have time for this,” Bullock says.

“There’s always time for this,” Gordon says, and laughs. “And if you’re going to ask me to kill people for you, Harvey, then you’ll have to indulge me in a few personal quirks that go along with executions.”

“Jesus fuck,” Bullock says. “Fine. Ten minutes.”

Gordon tips his head to one side as Bullock leaves, closes his eyes, seems to be… listening to something? “He’s far enough away,” Gordon says, releasing Oswald’s throat. “Good boy, for listening so well. Now get up and unbutton your shirt. Hurry. You have to trust me.”

“I don’t understand…?”

“You don’t need to understand,” Gordon says, yanking him to his feet. “You just need to follow orders. Now get up.”

Oswald struggles to his feet, unbuttons his vest and shirt, exposing his pale, hairless chest to the detective. “God, you’re gorgeous,” Gordon says, and Oswald blinks: no one’s ever told him that under normal circumstances, why is he hearing it now, when he’s about to die?

“Oswald, you need to listen to me very carefully.”

Oswald snaps his gaze to Gordon’s. “I don’t have time to explain this well, but in a minute, I’m going to bite you. And it’s going to hurt worse than any pain you’ve ever had, worse than the broken knee you’ve got. Do you understand?”

Oswald nods frantically, already terrified. “Okay. And when Harvey comes back, you can cry, you can beg, but you’re going to limp your way to the edge of the pier and _never stop facing me._ Harvey has to see your face at all times. All right?”

“O…Okay?”

“Good boy. I want you to keep all of this in mind, because when we’re done here, you’re going to have to find Barbara Kean. I command you to find Barbara Kean immediately. Go to the Kean Gallery. It’s your only job. Do you understand?” 

“Not at all,” Oswald says. “But I’ll find her, detective, I promise.”

“Good. Oh, and last thing.”

“What?”

“Don’t be afraid.”

“Why would I be… _Holy Mother of Christ_ ,” Oswald shrieks, because he’s no longer looking at the face of a man.

He’s looking at a monster. 

Razor sharp teeth, wide jaws, snout, hair… and it’s coming straight at him, holy God. Oswald tries to step back but he’s immediately caught in a superhuman grip. The… the creature that is Jim Gordon leans in and bites down on his chest, _directly over his heart_.

Oswald tries to scream but a hairy paw slaps over his mouth, muffling his cries. He turns his head, waiting for the thing to finish him off, but there’s… 

There’s…

Strong arms gripping his shoulders, shaking him. “Oswald!”

Oswald opens his eyes, looks directly into Jim Gordon’s handsome face. “Pull yourself together!” he snarls, wiping Oswald’s blood off of his mouth with the handkerchief that had been wrapped around the gun. “Close your shirt, hurry!”

Oswald obeys, closing his shirt, but cannot help shaking and questioning, “W…What…? W… Why???” 

“Later. I promise.”

With that, he helps Oswald button his vest, pushes Oswald back to his knees and rubs a hand across Oswald’s mouth to make it look wet and irritated. “Lick your lips,” Gordon says, and Oswald obeys.

Oswald obeys, though he sobs in agony. 

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry it had to be this way,” Gordon says, cupping Oswald under the chin. “Harvey’s coming back, so let’s show him those tears. It’ll be okay. Remember: after all of this is over, you find Barbara Kean. She’ll take care of you.”

With that, he falls silent. The next voice to speak is Bullock’s. He says, “Jesus, Jim, he’s a mess.”

Gordon shrugs as though he doesn’t care, zips up his fly (when had he lowered it?). “We all have needs, Harvey. Why do you give a damn about the wellbeing of one soon-to-be-dead snitch?”

Bullock looks as shocked as Oswald feels. But before Oswald can give it further thought, Gordon’s pulling him upright and walking him to the edge of the seawall. “Remember,” he says. “Promise me. Barbara Kean.”

“I promise,” Oswald whispers. 

Gordon nods once and then, before Oswald can react, Gordon shoots him in the chest, center-mass, so that he goes sprawling into the sea. _So this is what dying feels like,_ he thinks, hysterically, as blackness overtakes him. _What good was that promise for?_


	2. The Hunger

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Be warned; this story will be POSTED SLOWLY. It's already long and complicated and OMG. Don't rush me. :)

_Find Barbara Kean._

Oswald opens his eyes. He’s not cold, not uncomfortable; the sun shines down upon him, the birds clack above him, and he’s alive. He squints, confused, and sits up, realizes he’s lying on what seems to be the shoreline, and he’s wearing a blood-covered suit. He shakes his head, spits out a mouthful of reddish-colored phlegm, and waits.

When the enormity of the previous events hit him, he nearly hurts himself in his attempt to yank his vest open, tear open his shirt. But though the fabric is soaked in blood ( _his blood, he can smell it, everything smells different, sharp and bitter and greasy and different_ ), his skin is whole. There’s no sign of the bullet Gordon fired into his chest.

The only thing he sees is a ring of perfect teeth marks around his heart. 

_Find Barbara Kean._

Oswald starts laughing, gets a little hysterical, breaks down into great, sobbing tears. He rubs at his face with a sandy hand, pushes himself to his feet, because he’s not dead, and he has a promise to keep.

When he takes a step forward, he steps as he always does; foot turned, hip cocked, ready for the immediate pain of walking with his misshaped spine and broken knee. But what happens in the reality is that he puts his foot down, and nothing happens.

Oswald freezes. “Maybe this is a dream,” he says, to see if he can hear himself. He can. “I’m a bird!” he says, looking around, but no one replies. He takes another step, gets the same result; no pain, no discomfort. He turns his foot in and stands up straighter. Another step. Another. 

Oswald breaks into a run across the sandy beach, hooting and hollering like a lunatic. _His legs work._ What magic is this? What spell? If this is a dream, or if he’s dead, he never, never wants to go back to the way he was before. Oswald stops, collapses to his knees, and curls over himself. _Please don’t let this be a dream._

“Son? Are you all right?”

Oswald looks up, sees a man in a pick-up pulled over on the roadside. “Do you need help?” he calls.

“I… where am I?” 

“Jersey,” the man answers. “Do I need to call 9-1-1 for you, son? Are you bleeding?”

Oswald looks down at his suit, realizes that he’s fine. “No, sir,” he says. He grins. “I’m afraid I’m a little at a loss, however. Would it be possible for you to take me to Gotham?”

_Find Barbara Kean._

“Are you sure you don’t need the hospital?”

“I’m positive,” he replies.

“Well, come on, then.”

He gets into the truck cab, sits down, stares out the window at the city across the bridge. The man doesn’t ask him anything; he probably doesn’t want to know why a not-dead Oswald washed up on the Jersey shore. They cross the bridge into the city, and eventually the man asks, “Do you have somewhere for me to drop you off?”

“The Kean Gallery, please.”

The truck pulls in front of the gallery and the man pauses before he unlocks the doors. “Are you sure you want to go in there, looking like that?”

“No,” Oswald replies. He smiles. “But I have to.”

He slides out of the truck, still babying his leg, expecting it to give out beneath him, but _it’s fine it’s fine it’s fine_. One foot goes in front of the other. Walk tall. He can do this.

He pushes the doors open, walks to the desk, and clears his throat. “Excuse me, I’m looking for Miss Kean?”

An elegant blonde woman across the room turns her head, takes one look at him, and excuses herself from a pair of potential customers. She hooks a hand in his elbow and half-drags him to a back room, says, “So you’re Jim’s new puppy, are you?”

“I beg your pardon?”

She laughs. “Hello, Oswald,” she says. “I’m Barbara. And I feel we’re going to become very good friends. But for now, I need you to stay here. There’s a refrigerator in the corner. Jim left food for you so find yourself something to eat and drink a few of the bottles of water in there. Okay?”

“I… I still don’t understand what’s happening,” he admits, lost.

“I know you don’t. It’ll be all right. Just eat and drink and I’ll call Jim. When you’re done eating, there’s a bag of clothes in the corner for you. Jim spoke to your mother and got you something you might prefer wearing. Go on, now.”

He nods and she leaves him. Jim? Spoke to his mother? Got him food and clothes? Told Barbara to… take care of him? What the hell was happening? He walks to the refrigerator in a daze, but before he can think to eat or drink, he desperately wants to change out of the clothes that stink of blood/sweat/urine/seawater. He strips down, unthinking of where he is, and whines as the cool air of the room reaches his skin. Only when he finds clean clothes does he feel better, and so he pulls on new underwear, a pair of his oldest, softest black pajama pants, and an equally soft long sleeve black tee. He hugs himself, feeling more settled already.

How had Jim known these were his favorite ‘guilty pleasure’ casual clothes? 

He stuffs his wet, ruined suit into the bag then opens the door to the refrigerator. Maybe there’s tuna. Maybe there’s something light. Oswald’s not much of an eater, and he’s really not that hungry…

The first thing he smells is ham. He pokes around the icebox, finds two sub sandwiches wrapped in paper. He opens the first, takes a bite, and almost falls down for how good it tastes. He rips into the bread with his fingers, stuffing bits of it into his mouth, sobbing with how good the food feels in his belly, halting an ache that burns him from the inside out.

“Oswald?”

He looks up. He’s sitting on the floor in front of the refrigerator and the door’s open, letting all of the cool air out. He’s almost covered head to toe in crumbs, and he’s still _so damn hungry._

“Oh, sweetie. This is why I told you to eat first and then get changed.”

“I’m… I’m sorry,” he says. He stumbles, really. “I just felt so repulsive, and the smell, it was… I’m sorry.”

She pats him on the head and he doesn’t understand why it’s not demeaning. But it isn’t; she cups his scalp and scritches him behind his ears, and he sighs in relief at the gentleness in her fingertips. “It’s all right, sweet boy,” she says. “I’m not mad. I don’t mind the mess. I forgot what smells must be like for you, being so untrained.”

“Please, untrained for what? I don’t understand what happened to me. What was that Detective Gordon turned into? Why did he bite me? How many days have I been gone?”

“To answer your questions, ‘untrained for being a werewolf’, ‘I’m an Alpha’, ‘I bit you to save your life’, and ‘you’ve been gone almost a full seven days’,” a voice says, from behind Barbara. “I’m glad to see you here, Oswald.”

Jim. Oswald stays on the floor, has the overwhelming urge to tip his head back and close his eyes. When he gives into the feeling, he hears a subsonic growl reverberate through the room, rocking through him and making his heartbeat race.

“Jim, you’re scaring him,” Barbara chastises, and the growl cuts out. She continues petting Oswald’s head, says, “Okay, sweet boy. Come up off the floor, and let’s get you into Jim’s car, all right? He’ll take you to our home and explain everything. Won’t you, James, darling?”

“Yes, dear,” the detective replies, and Oswald’s amazed to see her roll her eyes at him. He tries to picture himself doing it and can’t. Roll his eyes? At the detective? Oswald has no idea how she does it. All he wants to do is lay down and show Jim his belly. 

As if Detective Gordon can read his thoughts, the blond winks at him. “Come on, Oswald.”

“Yes, sir,” Oswald replies, and gasps when Jim stops him with a single fingertip to his chest. 

“Yes, Alpha,” the policeman says. “Or ‘yes, Jim’.” 

“Alpha?”

Jim rumbles that same noise again, but this time – this time it’s not frightening. It’s soothing, like a caress, like the way Barbara Kean’s fingers felt in his hair. It’s _safe_ and _home_ and _loved_. “I don’t understand.”

“I’ll explain when we get home. You can get cleaned up, and I’ll tell you a story. All right?”

Oswald nods. “Yes, Jim.”

This earns him an arm around his shoulders and nuzzles to his left ear. He gasps and gasps again when the detective – when JIM – grins. “That’s perfect, Oswald.”

“Thank you?”

Jim leads him out to a white BMW. “This is Barbara’s car, so no shedding on the interior,” Jim says. He smiles at Oswald. “That’ll be funnier later on when you understand what’s going on, I promise.”

“Okay?”

“Did I not keep my promises to you, to save your life?”

“Yes, Jim.”

“Then trust me now.”

Oswald, to his own amazement, finds himself sinking into the car seat without hesitation. Jim drops into the driver’s seat and takes them away from the gallery, heading towards the heart of the city where the upscale high rises and apartment buildings are. “What’re we doing?” Oswald can’t help but ask, when Jim turns the BMW into one of the private drives.

“We live here.”

“You do?”

“No, Oswald,” Jim says, and he smiles. “We do. Barbara and I… and now, you do, too.”

Oswald blinks, assumes this is some sort of joke. “Why would I live here? I don’t have money. At least, not my own money…?”

Oswald thanks Fish Mooney every day for paying his way through the world, even if it meant he had to grovel and beg for it. But he was moving his way up – wasn’t he? And now in the service of Don Falcone himself?

Except, he wasn’t anyone yet, and he wasn’t anywhere that mattered. He was still a kid who’d just been shot execution-style for being a waste of air. “I still don’t understand.”

Jim gets the car parked in a “reserved” space, opens the door, and steps out. He walks around to Oswald’s side of the car and says, “Come inside. Things will be clearer.”

“Clearer than what?” Oswald says, exhaustedly. “I should be dead and I’m not and I don’t understand why I’m not. And you bring me home with you like… like a lost stray, and I don’t understand _why_. This isn’t… this isn’t what I thought would happen, out on that pier.”

Jim pulls Oswald out of the car, leads him to an elevator. Oswald doesn’t even have the energy to object to Jim’s manhandling. The elevator, when it arrives, is a dark-paneled and velvet monstrosity with a sitting bench in it, something that Jim lowers Oswald onto. “Stay still.”

“Yes, Jim.”

Oswald receives more rumbling as response. Is this real? Is this really happening, that the police detective really is some sort of mythical creature who just happened to save his life? “You’re thinking too hard,” Jim says, interrupting Oswald’s musing. “I can hear your brain grinding from here.”

“Is that a thing?” Oswald asks, his eyes wide. “Can you read my mind?”

Jim blinks and then grins. “No, kid, it’s a figure of speech. I’m not a mind reader. Though from the way you smell and your heartbeat, I can often tell your emotions.”

Oswald’s mouth drops open and his ears burn. Seriously? That’s all he needs, someone who can tell when he’s nervous or anxious or angry or horny…

“Arousal’s an easy scent to pick up,” Jim says, and oh hell. Oswald may have been speaking aloud there for a moment. “It’s a hungry smell; a wanting smell. But on you, it smells like blackberry and chocolate and dark coffee and rain.”

Oswald’s ears burn harder. Fuck. He tries to think of everything unsexy he can: Don Falcone, Fish’s baseball bat, the people who push him and shove him and call him penguin out of cruelty…

“Hey,” Jim says, dropping on the bench next to him. “Stop that. Whatever you feel, you feel, okay? I’m not making fun of you and you don’t need to hide from me.”

“Can’t help it,” Oswald replies. Then, in a moment of rare honesty, he says, “I’m scared by how much I want you. I’ve never felt… I mean, you’re a cop, and I thought you were going to kill me, and yet. I wanted.”

“I know,” Jim rumbles. “You felt it too, human that you were. You brought my wolf to the surface and you offered me your throat the minute you got out of that trunk. You wanted and I wanted and I took everything you offered.”

“But I didn’t know what I was offering!” Oswald protests, and the elevator’s ding makes him flinch. “I had no idea what I was offering!”

“Your body did. Your heart did. Oswald, you’re the worst gangster I’ve ever seen. You’re too damn sweet for it. You don’t have enough darkness in you.”

“I’ve got plenty of darkness. I can be a… a badass, when I have to be,” Oswald says. The elevator doors open into a glorious penthouse and Oswald stops to gape at the floor-to-ceiling windows and uber-expensive furniture. Holy crap.

“You’re about as badass as a beagle puppy,” Jim says, and closes Oswald’s mouth with a gentle fingertip under Oswald’s jaw. “And about as threatening as one.”

Oswald frowns but doesn’t argue, especially when Jim’s fingers move from his jaw to his cheek, and then dig into his hair. “You’re fucking adorable.”

“Am not,” Oswald mumbles, cheeks pinking. 

Jim laughs, stops touching Oswald’s face, and Oswald immediately misses the affection. “Come on. Let’s get you a hot bath, something else to eat, and then I’ll go into more detail, okay?”

Oswald nods. He follows Jim down a long hall adorned with gorgeous artworks, and he silently calculates how much each of the paintings are worth because Jesus, he could sell two or three of them and have enough money to disappear with his mother forever. Barbara Kean’s wealth casually flaunted all over her penthouse apartment. “Have you known Miss Kean a long time?”

“I’ve known her family since the mid-eighteen hundreds,” Jim says. “I knew Barbie when she was a baby and used to pull on my tail for fun.”

Oswald trips over the carpet, stumbles into Jim’s back. “What?” he squeaks.

Jim turns and catches Oswald as he falls, scoops him up bridal style and carries him towards what Oswald presumes is the bathroom. “I’m not joking, Oswald. Barbara’s family is an old, magically inclined family. I’ve been the family’s guardian for almost a hundred and fifty years.”

“B…b…but…”

“She’s my best friend,” Jim continues. He sits Oswald down on the closed lid of the toilet, starts the water in _the sunken Jacuzzi tub oh my God_. “She’s been my best friend since she was a kid. Nothing more. But where Barbie ages, I don’t.”

“Whu.”

Jim looks at Oswald’s face, takes in the way Oswald stares at the tub. “You never been in a hot tub before?”

Oswald shakes his head no; Jim grins. “You’re gonna love it. It’s exactly what you need after the swim from hell you took. I really am sorry about that.”

“Bwuh?”

Jim takes off his own tie, starts working on the buttons of his dress shirt. “Come on, strip down. It’ll be hard for me to give you a bath if you’re still dressed.”

Oswald’s heart skyrockets and both of Jim’s eyebrows go up. “What’s the matter?”

Oswald swallows hard, shakes his head. “I just. You want me to take off my clothes? I can take a bath by myself, you know!”

“Yeah, but where’s the fun in that?” Jim teases. “Come on, you’re mine. There’s no need to be nervous.”

“But I’ve never done this before!” And oh, if Oswald could punch himself effectively in the face, he might consider it. Jim looks confused, and Oswald says, “Any of it.”

“Okay, so you’ve never taken a bath with someone before,” Jim starts, but Oswald cuts him off.

“I meant be naked with someone.”

Jim’s face falls into a mass of confusion and then anger. “Are you telling me you’ve never had a lover that let you get your clothes off before he fucked you? Sons of bitches, they…”

“I’ve never had a lover before!” Oswald exclaims, and then dies in embarrassment. “I’ve never, not any of it!”

Jim just stares. After a moment, the man hoarsely asks, “Are you telling me that everyone in this town is blind and stupid and left you a virgin when you’re the most beautiful thing in Gotham? Is that what you’re telling me?”

Oswald gapes at the blond man. “If by ‘beautiful’ you mean crippled and frightened and poor, then yes, Jim. No one wanted to bother with someone like me.”

Jim, now stripped down to a pair of black boxer-briefs, steps out of his pants and kneels on the floor in front of Oswald. “Someone should’ve told you how spectacular you are. Every single day. Jesus Christ, Oswald. You’re the most beautiful boy I’ve ever laid eyes on. Even if I couldn’t feel the mating pull with you, I’d have been blind not to see it.”

“Mating pull?”

Jim grins up at him. “Sweetheart,” he says. “I’m gonna get you in that tub, clean you up, and calm all of the fears you have. And later, if you’ll allow me to do so, I’m going to put my three hundred plus years of life experiences to work wrecking your virginity. Does that sound okay?”

Oswald nods, heart still beating out a quick tattoo. “I trust you.”

Jim’s eyes flash red. “Then get out of those clothes, if you don’t want them ripped off of you.”

Oswald stands though his legs are Jell-O; this time from nerves, not from fear. Jim’s looking at him like he’s a steak being dangled in front of a starving animal. Maybe it’s not too far from the truth. “Three hundred years?” he asks, trying to get Jim to talk. “How is that possible?”

“The bite slows the aging process,” Jim says. When I was bitten, I was a few months beyond my twentieth year. Now, I’m about thirty-five, give or take. I’ve met a few other wolves, and it’s different for everyone.”

“Then Barbara’s not a werewolf?”

“She’s from a family of witches, but if you ever call her a witch, she’ll probably turn you into a toad,” Jim says, and smiles. “Come on, Oz. Less questions, more nudity.”

Well shit, Jim’s caught on to Oswald’s delay tactics. He yanks his shirt over his head for the detective’s viewing pleasure, crosses his arms over his chest when he gets too shy to undress further.

“Don’t hide from me.”

“S’ not like there’s anything great to look at.”

“I think that’s for me to decide,” Jim says. “And as your mate, I can say with full conviction that you’re a fucking gorgeous boy.”

Oswald shimmies out of the black pajama pants, leaves his briefs on for the last bit of dignity he has. “What does that mean, anyway?”

“It means my wolf could feel a pull to your soul, and claimed you,” Jim explains, and hooks a finger in the elastic of Oswald’s underwear. “It means that as long as you and I both live, you’re going to be the only one I’ll ever want.”

“But you don’t even know me.”

“I didn’t have to,” Jim says. “My instincts knew. And for wolves, instincts are never wrong.”

Oswald’s underwear hits the floor at his ankles and he ducks his head. He can’t speak anymore as nervousness and body shyness overwhelms him. It’s all he can do to not try to cover himself from Jim’s gaze. He knows what he looks like; too thin, too angular, too ridiculous. He can still hear the words of his school peers in his head. _Odd-wald, Odd-wald, such a freak…_

Jim tips his head up and kisses him.

Oswald gasps at the abrupt contact, stiffens uncomfortably, but Jim doesn’t get offended by the reaction. If anything, Jim drags his fingertips up and down Oswald’s arms in a gentling motion, the soft touches going far to ease his overwrought nerves. Jim’s lips caress rather than overpower, and Oswald can feel the light pressure of Jim’s tongue against his bottom lip. “Open your mouth,” Jim coos, and Oswald obeys. “Good boy, gorgeous boy, let me taste you…”

Oswald groans, sags into Jim’s embrace and Jim lets out another one of those wonderful rumbles that make Oswald shiver. They stand there, arms wrapped around each other’s bodies, gently kissing until Jim lets Oswald up for air.

Oswald doesn’t need any air; he’s already floating away.

“You’re perfect,” Jim says. With that, he scoops Oswald up again and lowers them both into the sunken tub, which had been filling while they’d been kissing. The water is perfectly hot and soothes Oswald’s nerves. “Are you comfortable?”

Oswald blinks, brain sluggish. He’s sitting in Jim’s lap, one knee on either side of Jim’s hips, and their naked bodies are pressed together in the most intimate of ways. “Oh,” Oswald says, when he realizes this, and blushes. “Yes, I’m… very comfortable?”

“Good,” the other man replies. Jim reaches to the side of the tub where a basket of bottles and tubes sits. He picks up a bottle of some sort of bath gel and a loofah sponge. “Now don’t laugh, but Barbara has actually been a bad influence in regards to bath products. I used to be a soap guy, until I realized how much I liked this damn fluffy sponge.”

“Loofah.”

“God bless you?”

Oswald can’t suppress a giggle. “It’s a loofah,” he clarifies. “I’ve got one at Fish’s. It’s an indulgence. Oh. Fish? She has a lot of my things in her possession.”

“I know. Are any of them necessary, or are they things you could buy new?”

Oswald shakes his head. “I don’t have anything of importance except my suits. Anything else is at mother’s.” 

Jim grins. “Glad to hear it. Now, as I was saying, the loofah is a small indulgence of mine. So I’d like to put some of the wash on it and clean you. You’re gonna smell like me, my soap, by the time we’re done. Any concerns?”

“No.”

“The soap’s mostly unscented, because our noses are a lot more sensitive than human noses,” Jim says. “When you meet your wolf, you’ll notice that right away.”

“I already noticed? When I was on the shoreline, I could smell things I normally couldn’t.”

Jim runs the sponge down Oswald’s chest. “That’s good. It takes an Alpha to unlock the wolf inside you, but if you’re already getting signals from him, that’s wonderful. It means the wolf will be accepting when he comes out to play.”

“You have to unlock my wolf?”

“Yeah. Think about it this way: werewolves, they aren’t like what Hollywood predicts. We aren’t moon influenced except for hormones. We shift when we choose, we mate when we choose. So what happens if a wolf accidently bites a human? The human will be healthier and maybe live a little longer, but until an Alpha unlocks the wolf within you, you don’t shift or access all of the most valuable parts of werewolf behavior.”

“So I… oh!” Oswald exclaims, when Jim drags the loofah over the cheeks of his behind. “So you intend to teach me how to be a werewolf? Full stop, no regrets?”

“Yes. Because you’re my chosen mate. That means I’ll always be there for you, sweetheart. Take care of you, nurture you, protect you. All of the things an actual wolf would do for its partner.”

“And wolves mate for life,” Oswald says. He blushes. “Surely you’ll get tired of me.”

“Not if you keep blushing like that,” Jim says, waggling his eyebrows. “You glisten like a damn little candy sucker, and I wanna lick.”

Oswald turns ever redder.


	3. About Being a Wolf

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Um. Here's some plot and a lot of porn. Enjoy!

Jim doesn’t do anything more than tease him in the tub; touches and tickles in sensitive places that set his heart thumping. If he hadn’t seen Jim change, he’d never have believed such a thing was possible; but here he is, naked, comfortably sprawled across a huge bed in Jim’s room, talking to an honest-to-God wolf.

Jim looks like a giant dog; stands about four and a half feet tall when on all fours. He’s golden color with hints of brown around his tail and paws. He looks amazing, and Oswald tells him so.

Oswald is given a wet lick from chin to crown for his efforts. He squeals in disgust and Jim pants at him. “I know you’re making fun of me,” Oswald grimaces, wiping his face on the sheet. “That’s so gross! Stop that.”

Jim shakes himself, rippling, and soon a man lies next to him again. “So that’s one shift,” he says. “Barbara calls that one the puppy shift. Basically you look like a big, ridiculous, harmless dog. The shift you saw earlier was a half-shift. That’s where you retain most of your human characteristics but look like something out of the horror movies: full snout, sharp teeth, the works. I can do that one for you, if you’d like?”

“No, no, please,” Oswald says. “I remember that one, truly I do. I may remember it for the rest of my life, no need to scare me with it right now.”

Jim laughs. “Oswald. At some point, you’re going to be able to take that form, too. It’s the ‘don’t fuck with me’ form. Now, unlike an Alpha, if you bite someone in that form, you’re not going to be able to turn anyone else into a werewolf.”

“Oh, thank God. Will I ever be able to turn someone?”

“No. You’re not built for that.”

“What does that mean? I could so be built for…”

“Oswald!” Jim is laughing again. “Only Alpha bites turn people. Omegas most definitely do not.”

“I’m an Omega?”

Jim sighs. “Yeah. So, um. About that.”

At Jim’s sudden shy awkward look, Oswald slumps. “Oh God, is it something terrible? Am I, like, the most horrible unworthy werewolf ever?”

“Not in the least,” Jim says. He laughs again. “It’s just. Well. Until we properly mate, I’d really like you to not go anywhere outside.”

“What? Why?!?”

“Because a lot of Alphas will purposely seek out an Omega to breed.”

Oswald feels a little dizzy. A little sick. “Breed? Like, get knocked up?”

“What? No. Being a werewolf won’t give you a uterus,” Jim says. He bites his lip and Oswald can sense his amusement at the thought. “Though, God, what beautiful little babies you’d make…”

Oswald picks up one of the bed pillows and swats Jim with it. He’s not sure when he got comfortable around his Alpha, but it seemed to happen quickly. “That’s not even remotely funny, thank you, I don’t see myself as having birthing hips.”

Jim mouths ‘birthing hips’ at Oswald and shakes his head. “Your body, while it won’t get pregnant, will be more open to… certain other things. Like, when you have sex with someone, you’re going to start producing your own slick. You’ll get wet when you get aroused. You’ll notice your cock might get a little smaller, but more sensitive. And you may experience heat.”

“Heat? And oh my God, what?” None of this sits well with Oswald. “I don’t want my dick to get smaller! It wasn’t… I wasn’t exactly a giant to begin with! And oh my God, since when do I get wet like a woman? And _what is a heat, Jim Gordon, you tell me right now._ ”

“Your body will cycle through periods of intense sexual need. A mating heat. It means that you and I may want to be locked up in a bedroom for three to five days having a sex marathon.”

“… That part doesn’t sound so bad.”

Jim grins. “From what I’ve heard, it’s not bad at all.”

Oswald tips his head. Asks, “You’ve never been with an Omega?”

“No. A lot of Alphas want an Omega to fuck, but I’ve never been into that mentality. Also, no one ever smelled like you do. So I didn’t bother. Omegas are a pain in the ass when they aren’t your own.”

Oswald’s stomach growls. “How am I supposed to get answers if you interrupt?” he says, glaring at his navel. 

“We can go into the kitchen, if you want.”

“Uh. I don’t have any clothes?”

“Yeah, you do. I picked up some things from your mother’s, remember? I brought the pajamas to Barbara because I knew – well, I’d hoped – you’d go there first. But I grabbed some other things from your closet, too. They’re in my closet, on the left.”

Oswald almost has convulsions when he sees Jim’s closet. “This is a walk-in closet,” he marvels, when he’s standing inside the eight-by-eight room. “Oh my God, you have room for _shoes_.”

Jim groans. “What have I gotten myself into?”

“How do you have one tiny rack in this closet filled? Where are the rest of your clothes?”

“I hang my four suits in there,” Jim protests. “Everything else is jeans and sweaters! I don’t need a closet this big.” 

“This is a crime, Jim Gordon, do you know the amount of _suits_ I could put in here? The amount of belts! Oh my God, are those pull-out trays for watches and cufflinks?”

“ _Oh my God!_ ” Jim says, in a horrible-falsetto. “ _Did my wolf marry me off to Brittney Spears?_ ”

Oswald gives him a look of terrible betrayal and Jim sinks to the carpet laughing. “Sweetheart, fill up the damn closet with whatever you want,” Jim says, and wipes his eyes. “You’re so goddamn adorable, how could I deny you anything?”

“I’m very mad at you right now,” Oswald says, and primly walks out on his still-laughing Alpha. He finds a pair of Jim’s sweatpants and a GCPD tee shirt and dresses, then makes his own way to the huge kitchen. Because of course it’s an enormous kitchen. He opens the fridge, sees a few steaks and some greens, and pulls everything out to cook. “When will Barbara be home from the gallery?”

“In about an hour. Why?”

“It’ll give me time to marinate these steaks and make a few sides,” Oswald says. Jim leers at him. “What?”

“You can cook?”

“Yes,” Oswald replies. “I cooked in a restaurant when I was a kid.”

“You’re still a kid. How old are you, like twenty-five? Twenty-six?”

“Twenty-three?” Oswald says, and Jim groans. “What’s wrong with being twenty-three?”

“Nothing, if I was thirty-five. But add a few hundred years to that, and it starts to feel a little weird.”

“Yeah, well, try having somebody tell you that you’re going to get wet when you get aroused, and then complain to me about what’s weird.”

Jim barks a laugh. “Sorry, sweetheart. I have to say, you’re taking this pretty well.”

“I think seeing you as a wolf helped make it real to me,” Oswald confesses. He digs back into the fridge and pulls out soy, ginger, garlic and sesame oil. “Does Barbara cook?”

“Yes, and she’s really good at it. I’m useless in the kitchen. The only thing I can do to meat is hunt it and kill it.”

Oswald makes a face. “I live on tuna fish, and now I’m dying to eat this steak raw. Part of me wants it and the other part wants to throw up.”

“Wolf versus human. Things will even out when you go through your first shift.”

“When will that be?”

“Ten days till the full moon. I want to be able to take you somewhere that we can shift safely, out of the city. I already have the time off from the department, I was considering driving into the Catskills upstate. You’ll just come with me. It’s gorgeous up there.”

“If you love it up there, then why are you here?”

“Barbara’s family has lived in Gotham a long time,” Jim says. “She wants to help clean up the city, but she doesn’t have a lot in the ways of muscle. So she asked me to move here for a while, get a job with the police department. Once we figure out who all of the major players are, we’ll work on getting rid of them.”

“Murder?”

“Or other ways,” Jim says. “I’m a pretty persuasive guy when I want people to move out of town. I had no idea that by coming here, I’d find my soulmate.”

“Oh.” Oswald isn’t ready to hear soulmate yet. It makes him feel unworthy. So he crushes garlic under the kitchen knife, chops it up with the ginger, then throws everything into a large plastic bag. “Hand me those steaks.”

Once the steaks are marinating, he asks, “How did you convince my mother to give you my clothes?”

“Flashed my badge, told her you were helping me with a case and I needed to bring you some of your things. She’s nice, your mom. A little concerned you’re out cavorting with painted ladies, though.”

“Oh God, tell me she didn’t say that.”

“She did,” Jim grins. “It was kind of funny. I was in Germany many years ago, met a lot of those painted ladies myself. Tricky bunch, they are.”

“You’re messing with me, aren’t you.”

“No, I swear!” Jim says, holding up his hands. “I was in the Black Forest communing with nature.”

Oswald stops, stares at him. “Were you really?”

“No,” Jim says. “I was hunting Nazis. When I told Harvey I was in war, he assumed I met the war in Iraq or Afghanistan. I just didn’t correct him.”

“Hunting Nazis?”

“Yeah. Lots of Jews used the forest as a means to escape from Germany to other countries. But there are modern legends that tell of beasts in the woods that would hunt the Germans so the Jews could pass through safely.”

“I read those stories as a child,” Oswald gasps, amazed. “My grandfather, he used to tell us of the wilkołak, a beast that hunted those that hunted our people!”

“Yeah, that was me,” Jim says. “Contrary to popular belief, werewolves aren’t all evil and murderous.”

“Nazi hunting?”

“…Okay, maybe I was a little murderous. It’s not like I was stealing babies, for Christ’s sake. I was protecting people!”

“So you’ve always been a policeman at heart.”

“Kind of? Barbie asked me to come here, help her save her family’s city. This is where she grew up, how could I refuse her?”

“She’s good to you?”

“And vice versa. Her great-grandfather was a dear friend of mine. He was the one who helped get me investing some of the monies I’d had horded all over the world, let it produce other monies. I didn’t have a head for any of it. And while he invested my fortunes, he made his fortunes from it.”

“Are you telling me that you have as much money as the Kean’s?”

“He has more,” a voice calls from behind Oswald. “From what my father told me, Jim was the reason we had any money to invest for ourselves.”

“I give a lot of my money away to charities anonymously,” Jim says, reddening. “I can’t spend it all, so why shouldn’t I use it to help people?”

Oswald thinks of all of the times he and his mother went hungry when he was a child. “I think giving it to other people’s a good idea,” he says, quietly. “Some people have so much.”

“Others want so much,” Jim says, giving Oswald a pointed look. “Some want too much and get greedy and get dumped into rivers as thanks.”

“When you have nothing, you have nothing to lose,” Oswald defends himself. “I want to make something of myself. Is that so bad?”

“It is when you take up with gangsters, darling,” Barbara says, coming up behind Oswald and giving him a gentle pat on the back of his head. “Are you cooking?”

“Oh! Am I not permitted?” Oswald stutters. “Jim, why didn’t you tell me to stay out of the fridge?”

“You’re more than welcome to cook!” Barbara says. “I’m just not used to being in the kitchen with Jim without a smoke alarm going off somewhere.”

“Ha, ha, ha,” Jim says. “For your information, I was sitting here at the counter, not touching anything.”

“That explains the lack of emergency personnel. Too bad, some of those firemen are awfully nice to look at…”

Jim growls at her, but instead of scaring Oswald, he recognizes it for a playful sound. “So do different growls mean different things?”

“Yes,” Jim says. “I normally growl at Barbie because she brings out the best in me.”

“Don’t call me that, Marmaduke!” Barbara shouts down the hallway. Whomever told Oswald that Barbara Kean was a posh, upper-class snob had obviously never met the woman. 

“I’m big all over, but not red!” Jim shouts back. He grins. “By the way, stay out of the hot tub until I can clean it since Ozzie and I fucked in there!”

“We did not!” Oswald gasps, scandalized. “James Gordon! You take that back!”

But Jim’s laughing too hard; he tips off the chair he’s on, shifts, and lands on the floor in ‘puppy form’. Before Oswald can throw up his hands, he’s being tackled under Jim, a wet, warm tongue lapping at him from navel to nose. “Oh my God, get off me! That’s so gross! Barbara, help!”

Barbara’s version of helping is to tug at Jim’s tail and mumble under her breath until Jim’s tail is bright red. He rounds on her, howls, and chases her down the hallway where Oswald can hear a door slam closed.

Oswald isn’t sure how he managed to fall into this particular situation, where giant wolves and witches became a real thing. And he’s not a hundred percent sure he wants to find out what being Omega entails. But one thing is for certain: he loves the idea of being wanted. He gets up from where Jim flattened him, rushes down the hallway to Barbara’s room, sees Jim staring at the closed door like he could open it with his mind. “Allow me,” he says, and twists the knob.

Of course she locked it.

“Oswald! You traitor!” Barbara shouts through the closed door. “Don’t help him.”

“He’s bright red!” Oswald says. “He looks like a cartoon!”

“As well he should, slobbering all over the kitchen.”

Jim puts his head on his paws and whines. “Oh no you don’t,” Barbara says through the door. “No whining. You’re not that cute.”

More whining.

“I don’t need to know what you and Oswald get up to when I’m not here!”

“That wasn’t true by the way,” Oswald blurts. “We just got baths, nothing more! I’m not an exhibitionist!”

“That’s a damn shame,” Barbara says, and this time, Jim’s growl is a lot lower and more sinister. “Oh for God’s sake, Jim. He’s adorable, stop snarling like a grumpy bear.”

Oswald blushes. “That’s… thank you? Um. I don’t know that I can move Jim away from the door, but I’ll go start dinner? I made the steaks and some kale.”

“Thanks darling. Let me know if his grumpiness starts to make you crazy, I could always cast an immobility spell on him. We could put him on the balcony like a statue.”

“Um. Okay?” 

Oswald backs away from the pair, goes into the kitchen. He finds a griddle to use for the steaks and gets a pot of water boiling to cook the kale. Twenty minutes later, Jim comes into the kitchen wearing a pair of cut-off denim shorts and… and that’s it. Oswald’s brain stops. “Bwuh.”

“See something you like?”

“God, Jim, you’re so. Like something out of my childhood crushes? Movie-star.”

Jim leans into him and presses a kiss to the side of his head. “My good boy,” he says. 

“It’s nice to see you not the same color as Marmaduke, however,” Oswald snarks, and earns himself a round of tickling for his troubles. 

Dinner is served, and it’s unanimously decided that Oswald’s new ‘job’ will be to feed and care for both Jim and Barbara where meals are concerned. He grins, pleased and shy in equal measures, that he can be of some value to someone else. Someone who seems less inclined to scream at him or swing at him or threaten his mother if he’s not perfect.

Not good enough.

Barbara volunteers to clean up; this allows Jim to steal him away ‘for sinister purposes’, as Jim says. Jim picks him up, tosses Oswald over a shoulder, and drags him down the hallway to his bedroom. “Don’t come in unless you want to be scarred for life!” the man calls back to Barbara, and laughs when Oswald makes a noise of mortification.

Come to find out, Jim Gordon had an incredibly wicked mouth.

Not for foul language, Oswald finds out, though (come to think of it), Jim’s got a dirty mouth for language, too. But no, Oswald’s Alpha has an incredibly wicked mouth because he puts it EVERYWHERE on Oswald.

Oswald is naked in Jim’s bed. Oswald’s naked and his arms and legs are spread, velvet cords tying his wrists and ankles to Jim’s bedposts so he can no longer close his legs. And Jim?

Jim’s sitting in a chair at the foot of the bed, staring at the opening to Oswald’s body. “I still can’t believe you’ve never been with anyone before.”

“I can’t believe that I’m tied to the bed!” Oswald cries out, voice going hoarse from all of the shouting he’d been doing. “Jim, please!”

“Shh, easy,” Jim says. “I’m just waiting for the right time.”

“Jim…?”

“I’m pushing you, sweetheart. Wanna push your wolf, see if I can get him to come to the surface for me.”

“By tying me to the bed?” Oswald can’t see what time it is. “I feel like I’ve been here for hours!”

“Oz,” Jim says, and smiles. “You’ve been there for less than ten minutes and you know it.”

“But you’ve been winding me up for _hours_.”

And Jim doesn’t deny that. He doesn’t deny kissing and licking every inch of Oswald’s skin, from the webbing between his toes to the soft skin behind his ears. He’s a hot, sticky, saliva-covered mess. “Jim, please. Please.”

“Tell me how you feel,” Jim commands.

“Like I’m on fire,” Oswald replies. “Please, I want… I want, I don’t even know, just please do something?”

Jim leans down from where he sits, sucks a bruise into Oswald’ ankle. Oswald nearly cries from the frustration, squirms on the bed. The pressure of the sheet against his anus feels so good that he rolls his hips again, bearing down, desperate for any relief. 

“Would you want to ride my mouth like that?” Jim asks, and Oswald sobs. “Get you kneeling over me, let me lick into you while you roll your hips?”

“Jesus Christ,” Oswald moans. “Yes, please, Jim. That, I want that! Please, anything, I just want to feel you!”

“Roll your hips again,” Jim says. “Let me see you rock into the bed. Do you feel empty? Do you want my cock to fill you up? What about my fingers, would I need to prep you with fingers, sweetheart?”

“I don’t know!” Oswald shouts. “I’ve never done this before, please! Tell me what you want from me! I don’t like this, I want you to fuck me, I want to feel you in me, just do anything, please!”

Jim moves so that he’s kneeling on the bed next to Oswald. “Tell me who I am to you.”

“Jim… please…”

“Tell me. Who am I to you?”

“You’re… you rescued me. That day. You saved my life, you made me yours, please, Jim. Please.”

“Who am I to you?” Jim’s eyes flash red as he stares down at Oswald. “What am I to you?”

“Alpha,” Oswald chokes out, and then – 

_OH –_

Jim had warned him, but he didn’t expect it to be anything like this. Oswald’s body twists, something low in his stomach clenches, and then he’s… he’s wet, there’s moisture dripping from the cleft of his ass, what the hell…

“God, fucking Christ, Ozzie, so damn good,” Jim says. He buries his face between Oswald’s legs and licks at him, sucks the slick pucker of Oswald’s rim into his mouth. Oswald screams, nearly jerks his limbs out of their sockets as he pulls against the restraints. “Can you smell it? Can you smell how wet you are?” Jim asks.

“Jim, oh my God. Oh my God, I can’t,” Oswald babbles, as Jim _eats him out_. This is something he’s only heard whispers of, something that happens only in pornography. “It’s so much, please, I can’t take it, so sensitive, please?”

“Do you need me to fill you up?”

Oswald sobs, shaking, and he isn’t quite aware of how Jim does it, only that his feet and hands come free within seconds. “I’m so proud of you, Oz,” Jim says, gathering Oswald into his arms and holding him. “Such a good Omega, my sweet, sweet Omega.” 

Oswald takes a deep breath; the scent of Jim’s skin calms him and drives him slowly out of his mind with longing in equal measures. “Please,” he says, and this time – this time – Jim listens, rolls Oswald onto his back and hikes Oswald’s legs up around his waist. He rubs the head of his dick against Oswald’s hole, and the friction breaks Oswald’s brain. 

“You’re so wet for me,” Jim says. “I’ve got you leaking all over my cock, pretty baby, getting me wet and ready to fuck you. You’re so good, my sweet boy, my good boy, are you ready for me?”

Oswald hiccups and gasps and arches his back, tossing his head in a gesture of complete and total submission. He’s falling apart, flying in a thousand different directions, body pinnacling before Jim even gets inside him. “Please,” he whines.

When Jim breaches him, Oswald comes.

“That’s it,” Jim growls, low and rumbling. “That’s my gorgeous boy, chase your pleasure, wasn’t that good?”

Oswald looks at his own spent cock, fluids still trickling out from underneath his foreskin. Jim rolls his hips forward, spearing into Oswald’s prostate, and Oswald wails. “You can come again,” Jim tells him. “You’ll get hard for me, won’t you? Drag that pretty cock to full hardness for me, rub it against my stomach? You can do it, gorgeous boy, I know you can.”

Oswald bucks and writhes under Jim, drags his soft cock up against Jim’s belly. It’s sensitive in a way he’s never felt before by his own touch; no questing of his own fingers ever splayed his hole open to cause such arousal. “For you,” Oswald whimpers. “Alpha. My Alpha, Jim, want to feel full of your come.”

Oswald’s half out of his mind with lust and want and sex and _safeAlphahomeloved_. He gets hard again at Jim’s command, but his desire to grind down on Jim’s cock, his yearning to pull at his Alpha’s shoulders so they can share kisses – that’s all Oswald. Jim indulges his wants, tilts his hips up when Oswald begs, slows his thrusts when Oswald asks. Jim’s his, and he’s Jim’s, and if he never belonged to anyone else, it would be okay and then he’s coming for Jim’s pleasure a second time.

Coming for his own pleasure with Jim’s help.

“I’m not going to last much longer,” Jim says, growling in Oswald’s ear. “Baby, I’ve got to pull out or I’m going to knot you.”

“S’okay,” Oswald says. He doesn’t know what Jim means, nor does he care. “Go ‘head.”

But Jim starts pulling back. Oswald lets out the kind of high-pitched yowl reserved for animals that are being abused. “Nooooooo…”

“Sweetheart, it’s going to hurt you,” Jim says, petting Oswald’s face and hair. “Not on your first time, huh? Baby, trust me.”

“I do!”

Jim pulls out of Oswald before he comes, jacks a hand over his prick, and comes all over Oswald’s belly and chest instead. Oswald whimpers, but doesn’t complain when Jim rubs the semen into his skin. “Make you smell like me,” he says, and Oswald shivers. “My well-fucked boy, my own, my beautiful Omega.”

“Yours,” Oswald agrees, curling up in the safety of Jim’s arms. He’s covered in saliva, sweat and come, but he can feel something inside him roll over and wag its tail in sheer delight.


	4. Taken

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ** Graphic violence warning for this chapter - Oswald abuse. Be warned.  **

Every moment of pleasure Oswald has when Jim and Barbara are home is equal to how lonely he is when they’re at work. He mopes around, flips through countless TV channels, cleans an apartment that doesn’t need cleaning, spends hours making elaborate meals Jim and Barbara devour. And while that’s good, it’s not enough.

Oswald ducks out of the apartment compound on foot, takes Barbara’s spare key from the hook on the wall so he can activate the elevator and privacy doors when he comes back. He’s excited; not only out and about on his own for the first time in a week, but out with the ability to walk like a normal person, blend in without a limp or handicap. He doesn’t worry about other people recognizing him. His hair’s combed down without gel, soft and fluffy the way Jim likes it. He’s wearing clothes that Barbara bought for him: Converse sneakers and skinny jeans and a tightly-fitted tee shirt that clings to his arms and stomach. He looks young, younger than even his twenty-three years and he thinks he’s safe, strolling through a city he cannot help but love and loathe in equal measure.

He doesn’t expect to get kidnapped off of the street. 

In his own defense, it’s not as though he’s gone looking for trouble. He doesn’t think about visiting his mother until he’s grabbed before he can get to her door. There are two of them; large, angry, bigger and meaner than he is, better fighters. Oswald’s attempts at getting lose do nothing more than further anger the two men holding him, earn him a swift, solid knock to the back of his skull. 

He collapses with a whimper.

He wakes to his own private hell in a room he recognizes all too easily. The club. Fish’s Club. The basement. The room is too cold, and Oswald curses because he’s been stripped down to his skin. This is how Fish likes to punish those who’ve made her angry: she strikes when they’re most embarrassed, helpless, and weak. He struggles to sit up but he can’t; his arms and legs are cuffed together with solid metal cuffs, and a short chain connects his arms and legs behind his back so he’s folded backwards almost in half. It leaves him helpless on the floor, his front exposed for whatever torments the madwoman can come up with. 

He isn’t left waiting long.

“Hello, penguin,” Fish says, as she makes her way down the stairs to the damp lower level of the club. “Comfortable?”

Oswald doesn’t answer and she clicks her tongue, stalks around him with a surveyor’s interest. “You don’t look comfortable. But you know, you also look alive, and you’re not supposed to be alive, either.”

“Got lucky,” Oswald grunts, and then cries out when the sharp toe of her shoe connects with his stomach. She lines up again as though she’s about to launch a soccer ball to the goal, says, “Please!”

Fish waits. Oswald gasps, “It was an accident. The gun, it must’ve jammed, when he fired the bullet fragmented. Hit me in the shoulder.”

“And yet you don’t have a scar on you,” she says. “Except for the one around your heart. Any ideas how to explain that one, hmm? That mark that looks like a bite?”

“It was there when I woke up,” he says, and she kicks him again, this time in the balls. “Please,” he sobs. “I don’t know why I’m not dead, I don’t know.”

“What happened to your leg?” she asks, and he stares at her blankly. “When my men saw you, you were walking down the street happy as you please. No limp?”

Oh God, he’s so stupid. He never thought she’d have people watching for him, watching his mother’s place. He’s going to die here at her hands, and Jim’s not going to know what happened to him, and he’s going to be in _so much trouble_. “I… I don’t… I don’t know,” he hedges. “It felt better when I regained consciousness, I…”

“You’re a terrible liar,” she says, and this time she kicks him in the chest, the point of her shoe connecting with his breastbone. 

He shouts as one of his ribs crack, but in his new and improved body, the bone doesn’t stay broken long. He gasps, pants through the agony, and bites his lip so he doesn’t give away his secrets.

“I wish you’d give me real answers,” Fish says, sounding bored. She turns away, says, “Seems we’re going to be here awhile. Grab us some coffee, won’t you?”

“No problem, Fish.”

Oh, God. That’s Butch’s voice. Oswald chokes and buries his face in his arm to hide it the best he can. He knows what Butch and Fish are capable of when they work individually, but as a team? He’s seen the condition of the bodies that come up from the basement before. He just never expected to be one of them.

“No begging?”

Oswald flinches. “I… I know you don’t like it, when I beg.”

“That’s true,” she says, laughing. “Penguin, penguin, penguin. What am I going to do with you? Just when I think you may be worth something, you snitch on me. And then, when I put men on your mother’s apartment to make sure you’re dead, you go walking down the street like you own it. You keep surprising me and I don’t like it.”

Oswald doesn’t answer. He lays there cursing himself for a fool. Jim had told him not to go outside, warned him about how much danger he was in, not only from the mob but other Alphas. And had he listened? No. Of course not. His own impatience would be the end of him.

Fish uses a foot to roll him onto his back, and he doesn’t struggle, knowing it’ll be so much worse if he fights her. The new position puts strain on his shoulders and hips; the position would’ve been torture before Jim’s bite healed his leg. As it is, he has to butterfly his thighs apart so he doesn’t break his shoulders. “You go along with what I want too easily,” Fish complains. “Don’t you want to fight back?”

He does. He really does, so badly. But if he can prove to her that he’s not a threat, maybe she’ll spare his life. “I didn’t want to make you angry,” he says. “I was desperate to prove myself. To make myself somebody.”

“You’re a nobody,” she snaps, and takes the cup of coffee from Butch’s hand when he passes it over. “A fucking nobody, and you weren’t ever going to matter. How stupid are you? No one is going to want something useless like you are.”

_Jim wants me, ___he doesn’t say. _Jim doesn’t think I’m useless. ___

__“Now tell me where you’ve been and why you don’t have a mark on you, considering you were supposedly shot dead. Tell me how Jim Gordon managed to put you in the river without actually killing you.”_ _

__Oswald considers the last seven days of his life, considers the way both Jim and Barbara treat him. Like a person. Like he matters. The way Barbara calls him puppy and encourages him to sprawl across the couch with his head in her lap so she can pet him. The way Jim puts his lips to Oswald’s throat and kissed him and told him how good he was, how pleasing, how much they were going to _be something great together_. _ _

__If those were the only good days he’s ever going to get, then he’s going to damn well keep them to himself._ _

__“No.” They both look surprised by his answer, but Oswald sets his lips firmly together and looks away from her. “I don’t know anything.”_ _

__“You little fucking bitch,” Fish says. And with that, she upends the cup of scalding coffee right onto his balls._ _

__Oswald screams. His body involuntarily jerks at the agonizing pain and he feels his right shoulder slip out of the joint as he thrashes. The water’s temperature blisters his cock and red welts raise on his skin, break blood vessels, make him scream and scream and scream. But it doesn’t last long; within minutes, his flesh heals over and the pain fades, and he shivers and sobs from the shock alone._ _

__“How did you do that?” Fish demands. “How are you not burned?”_ _

__“I don’t know!” Oswald shouts. “Please, I don’t know anything!”_ _

__Fish and Butch both stare down at him as if he’s a new and interesting toy. “Bring me a knife,” Fish says. “If he can heal all his wounds like that, won’t it be interesting to see how much he could take before it stops?”_ _

__“Interesting’s one word for it,” Butch agrees. He reaches down and unstraps a hunting knife from his calf. “Wanna see if you can remove some of parts and whether or not they heal up right away.”_ _

__Fish’s eyes light up. “Let’s start with something he probably won’t use, hmm?”_ _

__Butch laughs and oh Jesus. Jesus. Oswald cries out again, this time in fear rather than pain, starts crying as they both kneel on the floor next to him. Butch puts his weight on Oswald’s chest and stomach, holding him still; Fish kneels closer to his genitals. “Always liked a circumcised boy better,” she says, cupping his soft cock in one hand. She fingers his foreskin, slides the point of the knife between the delicate tissue and his glans. “What’s the matter, penguin? Can’t get hard for me?”_ _

__Oswald begs without pride. “Please, oh God,” he cries. “Please, don’t, don’t do this, please, I… _oh God oh God oh…_ ” _ _

__His voice dissolves into burbling, hiccupping squeals as Fish uses the knife to remove his foreskin. Oswald’s broken shoulder breaks again as he pulls at the cuffs, and his knee - _his once fucked up right knee, oh Jesus_ cracks as he tenses up. He’s screaming and begging now, Fish holding the tiny piece of skin between her fingers like a trophy for him to see. _ _

__“That wasn’t so hard, was it?” she asks, but he can’t answer because he’s sobbing too hard. “Wonder what’ll happen now?”_ _

__The answer may come, but it isn’t until after Oswald’s out cold._ _

__When he wakes up for the second time, he’s still chained and on the floor, but he doesn’t hurt anywhere. Either his body’s gone numb, or he’s in shock. At this point, he doesn’t even care anymore. “Please,” he whispers into the room. “Please, I don’t want to die here.”_ _

__“And yet you should be dead already,” Fish answers him. She holds up a _human finger_ and says, “Everything else has turned to dust, except the finger I took from your right hand. But it doesn’t matter to you, does it. Because you keep growing your pieces back. What the fuck are you, boy? How did this happen to you, you who were so scared of your own shadow? Where did this gift come from?”_ _

__“Me,” a voice says from the top of the stairs._ _

___Jim._ _ _

__Oswald’s still sobbing when he turns his head to see Jim walking down the stairs. And he has to blink a few times, because Jim’s walking like he doesn’t have a care in the world, except for the fact that he’s _stark naked_ and covered in blood._ _

__Fish pulls out a gun and shoots at Jim’s head, and Oswald wails “No!” But he shouldn’t have worried; between one blink and the next, Jim’s no longer on the stairs. He’s standing in front of Fish, one hand wrapped around her throat, and she’s dangling a foot off the ground in Jim’s strong grip. “You stupid cunt,” Jim snarls. “You thought to touch what was mine?”_ _

__Fish’s eyes bulge and Oswald isn’t sure if it’s from Jim’s words or her general lack of air. Either way, he can smell the panic on her, and it only intensifies when Jim shakes her effortlessly. “I would’ve made your death quick for you, if you hadn’t touched him. But I can smell his fear, his blood. You wanted him scared? Let me return the favor.”_ _

__Jim throws her backwards and she flies halfway across the room, crashing into unused bar tables and hitting the floor. “He’s trash!” Fish shrieks, throwing up her hands as though she could ward Jim away. “He’s nothing but street trash, and he was _mine_ , and he deserves death for his betrayal!”_ _

__“Ozzie deserves a chance at living,” Jim says. Oswald sees the ripple of Jim’s musculature, whimpers at his Alpha’s impending change. “You deserve a chance at dying.”_ _

__With that, Jim shifts. But this time, he doesn’t take the puppy shift. He doesn’t take the half-shift, either. This is Oswald seeing Jim at his most devastating: a hulking, golden beast that’s one hundred percent Alpha. Jim stands over eight feet tall, with claws that curve into knife blades and razor teeth that bulge out of his mouth. With a feral, terrifying roar, he launches himself at Fish, digging his teeth into her neck and using his claws to disembowel her._ _

__Oswald chokes and nearly vomits at the smell of blood and piss._ _

__When Fish Mooney’s decapitated body drops to the floor, Jim howls, a long, final, mournful sound that has Oswald whimpering and tipping his head back to show his Alpha his throat. He’s not afraid when Jim approaches him; not scared as clawed fingers roll him forward so a warm, wet tongue can pass along his bloodied body. Oswald’s not afraid, but he’s crying openly, shivering and sobbing against Jim’s fur. “Thought I was gonna die,” he says, shaking. “Didn’t think you’d come. Didn’t think you’d find me.”_ _

__“We almost didn’t,” a second voice says. Barbara. “James, is it done?”_ _

__Another shift, and Jim’s back to human, except for scarlet eyes and hot temper. “She’s dead,” he snarls. “Too quickly disposed of, in my opinion.”_ _

__“Yes, I know,” Barbara says, and Oswald chances a peek at her. She’s dressed head-to-toe in black. “We need to leave before anyone calls the police.”_ _

__“I didn’t leave anyone alive to place that call,” Jim says, shortly. He’s still wrapped around Oswald. “Anyone here, they were complicit in taking my mate.”_ _

__“I know, darling,” Barbara says. She cautiously approaches both Jim and Oswald. “How are you feeling, Ozzie? Are you all right?”_ _

__Oswald shakes his head. “I don’t know. I think so?”_ _

__“That’s good,” she says. Then, soothingly, she adds, “We need to leave this place. I’ve already taken care of the security footage, darlings, but sooner or later, someone’s going to get here to be able to open the club for business tonight. I’d like us all to be long gone before that happens, so would you both come upstairs with me?”_ _

__Jim snarls. Barbara says, “Ozzie, stand up for me.”_ _

__“I can’t,” Oswald says. He’s still chained hand and foot. “Fish should’ve had a key?”_ _

__“I see. James. Do you think you could find that key in all of the… mess, and unlock our darling boy? He’s probably very uncomfortable as he is.”_ _

__Jim growls but releases Oswald from his grip, pushes aside innards to find the key on the floor. When he returns to Oswald’s side, he gently unlocks the younger man’s feet and hands. “Can you stand?” he asks, gruffly._ _

__Oswald nods. Jim bends to pick him up but Barbara says, “James. Put on your clothes, and then you can pick up our little troublemaker here. All right?”_ _

__“They’re upstairs,” he says shortly. “I’m not leaving him.”_ _

__Barbara huffs, runs up the stairs, and is back again with a pair of jeans. “Here,” she says, tossing them to Jim, who catches them without looking. “Pants at least, and then you can pick him up.”_ _

__Jim yanks his pants up over his hips and then bends down, hefts Oswald up in a bridal hold. “Jim,” Oswald says, but Jim growls at him and he falls silent._ _

__“You can talk when we’re out of here, Oswald,” Barbara says. “Trust me, you’re definitely going to hear about this later. But we have to go now. Come on, James, move.”_ _

__Jim, who’s got his nose buried in Oswald’s neck, growls again, but climbs the stairs at Barbara’s urging. They walk across the main bar and Oswald tries not to see Butch’s head separated from his body, or Marco’s torso without any other limbs attached. He buries his face in Jim’s throat and closes his eyes so he won’t see anything anymore, but it’s no use: he can smell Jim’s aggression, the blood covering his Alpha from head to toe. Oswald trembles and Jim rumbles an answering sound in an attempt to soothe._ _

__It doesn’t work well._ _

__They make it to the alley unhindered, get into a shiny black sedan with dark windows. Barbara slips into the driver’s seat while Jim sits in the back with Oswald in his lap. “Home, my darlings. Showers and clothes for both of you, hmm?”_ _

__It’s only then that Oswald realizes he’s still naked. The part of him that isn’t traumatized thinks about how weird it should be for Barbara to see him unclothed. The rest of him could give a damn. He shivers again._ _

__“Are you cold?”_ _

__“No, Alpha,” Oswald replies, quietly. Respectfully. He’d known in theory what Jim could do with his body, but seeing it first hand’s more a shock than he expected. “Nerves.”_ _

__Jim rumbles again, wraps his arms around Oswald’s shaking frame. “I’ve got you,” he says, and Oswald sinks into the embrace. “They can’t hurt you ever again.”_ _

__“Thank you.”_ _

__The rest of the ride to the apartment passes in silence. When they pull into the gated parking structure, Jim gets out of the car and carries Oswald to the penthouse elevator. Barbara follows behind them, snaps her fingers at the security camera after they pass by. With a beep, it looks like the camera starts functioning again._ _

__“Witches make good accomplices,” Oswald mumbles, still half-out of it._ _

__“The best,” Barbara says. She holds open the elevator and Jim carries him into it. “But only when we’re on your side.”_ _

__As soon as they hit the penthouse, Jim takes Oswald to the bathroom and straight into the shower. He heats the water and sets Oswald on his feet only after the temperature’s set to scalding. “Is this okay?” he asks._ _

__Oswald nods and Jim brings their bodies together. Slowly, he draws Oswald’s wrists above his head, pins him to the tile wall. “Stay,” he growls._ _

__“Yes, Alpha.”_ _

__Jim noses at the soft skin behind Oswald’s ear; drags kisses down Oswald’s jawline. “Tell me where she touched you.”_ _

__“I was unconscious for part of it,” Oswald says. Shamefully, he adds, “I’m not… I’m not tough. Not brave.”_ _

__“Brave enough,” Jim says. “What did she do?”_ _

__“Poured hot coffee on my nuts,” he says. “Used Butch’s knife to circumcise me. Cut off one of my f… fingers. All the pieces grew back, but I thought… I thought…” he can’t talk anymore because he’s sobbing again. “Jim…”_ _

__Jim holds him, presses kisses to his eyelids and nose, runs his hands up and down Oswald’s arms. “None of that will kill you. Ever,” he says. “Only one thing can kill you, Oz. You can survive any torture but a beheading. She’s dead, so she’s never going to be able to lay a hand on you again. And you’re here with me now, with Barbara. You’re safe.”_ _

__“You killed them for me.”_ _

__“I’d have killed a hundred people for you,” Jim snarls. “And believe me when I say that I probably did humanity a favor by eliminating those particular individuals.”_ _

__Oswald shakes his head. “But. The danger you’re in if anyone else finds out…”_ _

__“Is worth it to me to ensure you stay alive for me to yell at later for doing something so monumentally stupid,” Jim finishes Oswald’s sentence. “If you ever think to disobey me again in such a manner, I will _find you_ and when I’m done killing everyone in my way, I will _punish you_ and you will _not_ like it.”_ _

__It’s not only the words that have Oswald’s cock hardening, but the thunderous growl in which Jim delivers them. To have someone so worried for him, someone so willing to protect him and love him even when he’s such an idiot… Oswald doesn’t know what to do with that depth of emotion. “I think I could be in love with you,” he confesses. “I don’t even know you, but I might love you.”_ _

__Jim hoists Oswald up to wrap Oswald’s legs around his waist. “Then show me your devotion,” Jim says. Commands. “I want you wet for me, Ozzie. Let me inside you. Let me show you what you do to me.”_ _

__Oswald can smell and feel the slick before Jim finishes speaking, and Jim groans. “That’s so good,” he praises. “My Omega, responding to an Alpha’s command. Good boy, my Ozzie.”_ _

__“Please,” Oswald says. “I’m so sorry I left, I didn’t mean to get into trouble, didn’t mean to give you anything to worry about. I just didn’t think.”_ _

__“No, you didn’t,” Jim says. He kisses Oswald and Oswald can feel the man’s frustration poured out into the embrace. “I’m still so angry. I was terrified I’d never see you again.”_ _

__“But you came for me.”_ _

__“I’ll always come for you,” Jim growls. He slides his cock into the crease of Oswald’s ass. “Gonna make you mine.”_ _

__“Yes,” Oswald says. He offers Jim his throat. “Always yours.”_ _

__Jim bites him over his collarbone at the same time he plunges his cock into Oswald’s body. Oswald chokes off a moan, wraps his legs more firmly around Jim’s waist as Jim works to shove Oswald through the tiled wall. He doesn’t hold back, doesn’t slow despite Oswald’s weight in his arms. He bites hard, opening a wound at the base of Oswald’s throat, working the tender skin until Oswald’s whimpering in pain/pleasure. “That’ll take a while to heal,” Jim says. “Alpha bite. Claiming marks.”_ _

__“I want everyone to know I’m yours,” Oswald affirms. “More?”_ _

__Jim’s thrusts taper off, his claws lengthening and shortening and digging into Oswald’s hips. “Gonna knot you,” he slurs, eyes flashing red. Oswald can tell Jim’s not all with him, instinct overpowering his human senses. He knows what knotting is, knows his body will burn and stretch to accommodate the bulbous swell that will lock them together. He knows all of this, so he says, “Take me to bed first, please, Alpha?”_ _

__“Yeah,” Jim growls. “Yeah, good, bed, make you mine, my boy, my Oswald.”_ _

__“Yes,” Oswald replies. He leans into Jim’s embrace and presses gentle kisses to Jim’s mouth, mindful of the fangs that appear and disappear at random. “Your Oswald. I’m yours, Jim, take me to bed, fill me up with your come.”_ _

__Jim barely takes the time to turn off the water. He carries Oswald from the shower directly to the bedroom, never losing his grip, and Oswald yelps when he hits the mattress with a bounce and he scoots backwards on the bed to move closer to the headboard. It’s an action that has Jim growling, “Are you trying to get away from me?”_ _

__“No!” Oswald says. Before Jim can climb onto him, Oswald fluffs the pillows and situates himself in the center of the bed. When he’s comfortable, he spreads his legs. “I was trying to make it comfortable for both of us. So you weren’t hanging off the bed?”_ _

__Jim pounces, knocking the breath out of Oswald’s lungs. He seals his mouth over Oswald’s and delves his tongue into Oswald’s throat, examining his tonsils. Oswald moans, gets his legs back up and around Jim’s hips. “Oh God,” he says, as Jim’s cock slides back into him. “Fuck. Jim, please. Knot me? Knot me knot me knot me knot me…”_ _

__Jim’s thrusting hard, pushing Oswald up the bed, folding him in two and pressing down on his prostate so hard that before he can think about it, Oswald’s coming all over himself. He howls his way through his orgasm and Jim keeps fucking him, his cock catching on Oswald’s rim with every lunge. Oswald wails, wraps his legs more firmly around his Alpha’s body, and bites at Jim’s shoulder as the knot thickens, bangs against his sensitive hole. “Fuck, Ozzie,” Jim snarls. “Fucking take it. Christ, look at that sweet hole just clenching for it, you gorgeous Omega. Tell me you’re ready, please, Oz, tell me you’re fucking ready!”_ _

__“Do it!”_ _

__Jim thrusts forward, and oh. Ohno, ohno, he can’t, Jim’s too big, there’s no way, but Oswald’s body pushes out that last little bit of wetness it can and the knot makes a pop and a squelch as it slides in, jams against Oswald’s prostate so he’s coming again untouched. He shouts his pleasure to the ceiling, wraps his arms around Jim’s neck and yanks at the bigger man until Jim’s settled on top of him. “Not too heavy?” Jim slurs, as come spills out of his cock and into Oswald. “You okay?”_ _

__“It’s so good,” Oswald gasps. “Oh God, Jim. Alpha. Jim.”_ _

__“I know,” Jim says. “You’re my boy, my perfect boy, you’re mine now for the rest of our lives, mine to cherish, mine to fuck, mine.”_ _

__“I want to be good for you,” Oswald chokes out, as Jim releases another rush of semen inside him. “Oh God, I want to be good, please make me good?”_ _

__“Will,” Jim promises. “Show you how to be a good man, Ozzie. Show you how to take care of what you love. Take you and your mother away from here, get Barbara, get out.”_ _

__“I’ll go with you,” Oswald says. Pleads, “Don’t leave me alone here?”_ _

__“Never,” Jim swears. “Never leave you. Make you mine always.”_ _

__“I want that.”_ _

__Oswald’s never wanted anything more in his life. He’s been given yet another chance at living and he swears to everything holy and unholy that he’s not going to fuck up again._ _


	5. Road to Redemption

Oswald sleeps like the dead. He’s tired, exhausted, emotionally and physically overwhelmed, and when he wakes he actually whines before he opens his eyes.

“Ozzie? Darling?” 

He peeks open one eye, sees Barbara’s smiling face. “Hello there,” she says. “I’m sorry to wake you, but I need you both to get up. We’ve got some planning to do.”

“G’way, Barbie,” Jim’s voice wafts over Oswald’s ear and he snuggles back into the bigger man, safe and warm and secure. “Sleepin’.”

“Yes, I know,” Barbara says. “But you seem to forget we’ve got a dozen or so dead people in Mooney’s Club and your partner’s in our living room, wondering why you’re not answering your phone.”

“Jesus fuck,” Jim spits. “What’s Harvey doing in the living room?”

“I couldn’t exactly leave him downstairs, ignored,” she says, clicking her tongue at him. “I need you both to wake up, get dressed, and meet me in the living room. I’ll keep Harvey entertained. Jim, you can figure out what you want to tell him about Oswald, all right? But I still think we should keep our cover.”

“Yeah, yeah, of course,” Jim says. “Boyfriend and girlfriend. Ozzie’s here because we’re protecting him.”

“Exactly,” she says. She runs her fingers through Jim’s hair, leans over Oswald to kiss Jim’s forehead, and then leans down to kiss Oswald’s forehead as well. “Up, my darlings. Maybe a shower and then pants?”

Before he realizes what he’s doing, Oswald snags Barbara’s hand in his and kisses her palm. “Thank you for saving me,” he says.

“From now on, you’re going to have to be more responsible for saving yourself. No more foolishness, do you understand?”

“Yes, Barbara.”

“Mmm, such manners,” she says, ignoring Jim’s grunt of indignation. “Be careful, James, or I might think to keep him as a pet for myself.”

“Can’t keep him if you’re dead.”

She grins at Jim’s churlishness, gives Oswald one more pat on the head, and leaves the room. Oswald bites his lip. “Are you… are you upset with me still?”

“You’ve changed our timetable,” Jim says. “Killing Mooney wasn’t supposed to happen for some time, but it was going to be done eventually. I was hoping to be able to take that trip with you and unlock your wolf before I had to deal with her, but it’s too late to worry about it now.”

“If you get dragged into investigating the… uh. If you get assigned Mooney’s murder, how are you going to handle that?”

“Carefully. This isn’t my first time having to do this, Oz,” Jim says. “As much as I wish otherwise, there have been some violent dealings in my life, and I’ve learned to roll with it.”

“Even though you’ve got an Omega to worry about now? I’m no use to you or Barbara, not like I am.”

“You’re every use,” Jim scolds, and gives Oswald a push out from under the covers. “Barbara and I will alibi you, so you don’t have to worry. We’ll protect you. And as for your wolf, well. He’s right beneath the surface, Oswald. Can you feel him? He’s the reason you healed so quickly under Fish’s torture. Why you can get wet for me and take my knot,” he adds, voice dropping. “The next time we’re alone, I’ll make you shift. You’ll be safer that way.”

“But what if… what if something happens? What if I can’t control my wolf?”

“I’ll be with you, or Barbara will. If I have to, I’ll tell Harvey you’ll be riding with us during the day because you’ve been in my protection. You’re not going to be left up to your own devices again until I feel I can trust you to use better judgement.”

Oswald blushes and ducks his head, hearing the unspoken ‘idiot’ in Jim’s tone. “Yes, Alpha,” he says, embarrassed. “I really am sorry.”

“I know. Now up. I want you in a pair of loose jeans and one of those ridiculous plaid shirts Barbara bought you. And don’t comb your hair.”

“Why?”

“Because the damn shirts make you look like you’re sixteen, Ozzie, when you don’t torture your hair into ridiculous spikes. You want to look as young and as innocent as possible.”

“I… oh. Are you sure Harvey isn’t going to try to kill me?”

“I’m not sure of much, so we’re not going to take any chances. Now go. Quickly.”

“But what about a shower?”

Jim grumbles, slides out of bed, and shoos Oswald into the shower. After the fastest, most efficient shower in his life, he’s being poured into another pair of skinny jeans, a royal and black plaid shirt, and yet another pair of Converse sneakers – also royal blue. “I look like a teenager,” Oswald complains, when he towels his hair and watches it puff up into waves and curls. 

“I know.”

Oswald blushes again at the leer in Jim’s voice, says, “Pervert,” and primly walks out of the bedroom. Jim catches up to him easily, gives him a quick goose on the ass, and passes him to be the first into the living room. “Harvey.”

Harvey Bullock’s head snaps up, takes in the sight of Oswald hiding behind Jim, and says, “Well, fuck. What the fuck, Jim.”

“What’re you talking about?”

“Nice shadow,” Bullock spits. “Wanna tell me where you found him?”

“Oh, are you talking about Ozzie?” Barbara asks. She joins them in the living room, sets down a tray with coffee mugs on it. “Oh, darn it,” she says. “Ozzie, be a dear and go get the cream and sugar off of the counter for me?”

“Yes, Barbara,” Oswald replies, and peels himself away from Jim’s side to go into the kitchen. When he gets into the other room, he’s lucky enough to still be able to hear the conversation if he strains. 

“… don’t know what you’re thinking,” Barbara says, snappish. “I know you’re Jim’s partner, but that boy in there’s been traumatized enough by the people in this city.”

“He’s a goddamn gangster!”

“Really? Then I’m sure you can show me his rap sheet,” Barbara says.

“Well, he’s not in the system…”

“And he’s accused of how many murders?”

“You mean other than the eight dead bodies down at Mooney’s Club?”

“Which Oswald obviously didn’t commit, since he’s not been out of my sight since yesterday when I arrived home from work,” Barbara says. “I stayed home today because I’ve had a migraine, and honestly, Detective Bullock, you’re not helping my head feel any better.”

Oswald chooses that moment to rejoin the party in the living room. He carries the creamer and sugar pots to Barbara, sits at her feet and places them on the coffee table tray. “Your creamer and sugar,” he says, quietly.

“Thank you, Ozzie,” she replies, and puts a hand on the back of his head. “You’re such a good boy.”

Oswald blushes, ducks his head so Bullock doesn’t see his embarrassment. Or maybe Barbara does it on purpose, to make him seem less of a threat to Bullock. Either way, he leans closer to her, allowing her to pet his hair down from its unruly tufts. “Thank you, Barbara,” he says.

“Jesus,” he hears Bullock say. “So now you’ve what, adopted him? He’s not a stray pet!”

_Oh, if he only knew,_ Oswald thinks, and makes himself look as small and insignificant as possible. 

“Of course he’s not a stray pet,” Jim says. “Don’t you think I know that?”

“So what is it, then?” Bullock says. Oswald raises his eyes in time to see Bullock narrow his eyes and glare at Jim. “Did you tell Barbara exactly how you came to meet dearest Oswald here? About Oswald’s attempts to change your mind?”

Oh God, the blow job Jim didn’t get at the pier the day he bit Oswald. Oswald sees Jim’s shoulders stiffen, sees the look of absolute murder on Jim’s face. What should he do? What can he say? “I told her,” Oswald blurts. He babbles, “I told her, it wasn’t Jim’s fault, she knows I begged Jim to suck him off, I didn’t want to die and that he let me, but it wasn’t…”

“Oswald,” Barbara cuts him off, before he can start hyperventilating. “While I appreciate you trying to explain, you need to calm down before you have another panic attack. Deep breaths, darling boy. In and out. In and out.”

Oswald folds himself forward, draws his knees to his chest and takes ragged breaths. “Detective Bullock,” Barbara says. “Harvey. May I call you Harvey?”

“Yeah,” Bullock replies.

“Jim and I have been together a very long time,” she starts, and it’s all Oswald can do not to start laughing a little hysterically. “And we know what makes the other tick. So I suppose you don’t approve of Jim’s enjoyment of violence any more than you’d approve of my enjoyment of younger men, but it makes no difference to me.”

With that, Barbara touches Oswald’s face, tips his chin up, and strokes gentle fingertips over the bridge of his nose. “Especially when those younger men are delightfully freckled and blush so easily.”

Oswald’s face goes up in flames and he chokes on his own spit. “So you see, Harvey,” Barbara continues, as though Oswald wasn’t dying at her feet. “Jim not only saved Oswald’s life, but he brought me the loveliest gift at the same time.”

Bullock makes eye contact with Oswald for half a second, makes a horrified sound, and then averts his gaze from Oswald altogether. “Are you telling me…?”

“I’m telling you that Jim acted in the best interest of a young man who needed his help, not the dangerous end of his gun,” Barbara snaps. “And because I trust my boyfriend and have gotten to know Ozzie quite well, I can say that Jim’s choice was the right course of action – whatever fully occurred.”

Oswald might be Jim’s mate, but once all is said and done, he may offer himself to Barbara as her puppy and plaything permanently. Bullock’s horror grows as she continues to pet Oswald’s head and Oswald, still being a bit of a brat, puts his chin on her thigh. “Thank you, Barbara,” he says, politely, as if butter wouldn’t melt in his mouth. “I’m awfully glad I met you as well.”

Jim snorts, shakes his head. “So I guess I don’t need to explain any further why Oswald’s been staying with us, once he dragged himself out of the river?”

“But I saw you shoot him!”

“No, Harvey. You saw me fire a gun and you saw Oswald flinch and throw himself into the water.”

“And the fucking?”

Oswald and Jim both wince at how crude Bullock is with Barbara still there. “It was reasonably consensual. In the end,” Jim says, and Oswald nods his agreement. Oh yes… very consensual, in the end.

“Jesus fuck. So you’ve adopted a gangster and turned him into your personal rentboy,” Bullock says. “That’s wonderful, Jim, really. But now, as much as I hate to break up your moment, we need to go figure out who killed Fish Mooney and most of her accomplices. Since our previous main suspect has an alibi thanks to your girlfriend.”

“And me,” Jim says. “Remember, partner. It’s Saturday. I’ve been home all day, too. Unless you’d like to accuse me of murdering someone. Because I’m secretly a mass-murderer and forgot to tell you.”

Oswald holds his breath until Bullock snorts and laughs. “Yeah, Boy Scout. You’d absolutely be the guy I suspect. Get outta here.”

Jim grins his most delightful, effusive grin. “Okay then. Let’s go catch ourselves a killer, huh? Ozzie, I’ve got a very important job for you in the meantime.”

Oswald sits up, looks at Jim wide-eyed. “What?”

“I want you to stick to Barbara like glue and keep her safe today. Neither of you leave the apartment. _I mean it._ ”

“I think this calls for a movie and popcorn,” Barbara says, petting Oswald again. “What do you think, darling?”

“That sounds really nice,” Oswald replies. He offers a small smile. “Maybe a classic? ‘Dial M for Murder’ or ‘Rear Window’?”

Barbara laughs outright and Jim turns a fond gaze Oswald’s way. “It’s gonna be like that, huh? You two stayin’ here, waiting for me to get home? I like it,” he says. “Be good, you two.”

“Yes, Jim.”

“Of course, darling. We’ll be here, safe as houses.”

Jim shakes his head, stands up. “Come on, Harv. Duty calls.”

Bullock assesses Oswald one last time before he leaves; he frowns, says, “I’d better find out you that you keep your fuckin’ nose clean from now on, Cobblepot,” he says. “Because if you double-cross my partner or his girl, I’ll be the first guy coming for you.”

“Yes, sir,” Oswald says. He blinks at Harvey. “I promise. New leaf, and all that.”

Bullock makes a disgruntled sound and follows Jim into the elevator. When the doors close behind them, Oswald turns to Barbara and says, “Oh my God! You totally made it sound like I’m your rentboy!”

“I know,” Barbara says. She winks at him. “Even if Harvey’s not discrete, at least no one will be able to poke holes in your alibi. Or, ironically, in mine.”

“What’re they going to find when they get to the club?”

“Dead bodies,” she replies. “And on the security cameras, they’re going to see a black-clothed arm open the door and let a pack of dogs into the club.”

“Dogs?”

“Of course, darling. Have you never seen hungry, angry dogs? They’d tear a person to shreds if given the opportunity.”

“But… oh. So the claw marks and bites could be…”

“Yes, exactly. Now. Come up off of the floor and let’s go into the kitchen. We’ve really nothing to do except listen to Jim’s advice and stay here, so we may as well enjoy ourselves with a film and popcorn.”

“Okay.”

“And then you can tell me all about your evening. I could hear you at the other end of the apartment, you know. You….. ‘knotty’ boys.” What makes it worse is that she makes air quotes with her fingers. “You’re very loud, darling.”

“Oh my God,” Oswald says, blushing. “You’re awful!”

She giggles, draws him to his feet and tugs him into the kitchen. “Yes, but you still find me charming.”

“Of course I do,” he says. He goes to the fridge and pulls out a bunch of raw vegetables. “Do you prefer popcorn, or would you like me to make some hummus to go with these?”

She bites her lip. “You drive a hard bargain because both sound good. Hummus, please.”

While Oswald putters about in the kitchen, Barbara says, “So he really finalized things with you last night?”

“Yeah,” Oswald says, blushing. “It was… he was…”

“Too good to put into words?”

“He’s the only man I’ve been with,” Oswald says, and while it should feel weird to talk about, he trusts her as much as he trusts Jim. “He’s scary and gentle and wonderful all at once.”

“Now you sound exactly as Bram described him,” Barbara giggles.

“Bram?”

Barbara covers her mouth with one hand. “I shouldn’t tell you…”

“You totally should!” Oswald gasps. “Please, tell me? I’d really like to know.”

“Well… give me a moment,” she says. She gets up and disappears from the kitchen, leaving Oswald to squeeze lemons and measure tahini on his own. When she returns, she’s carrying an old book. “So when Jim was younger and lived overseas, he met an author with whom he became very dear friends. He told this author a little about himself, including the fact that he was a wolf, as the author had met other wolves before Jim, along with a vampire or two.”

“Vampires exist?”

Barbara raises an eyebrow. “So witches and werewolves are fine, but vampires are where you draw the line?”

“Sorry. You’re right. Please continue?”

“Anyway,” she says, and holds up the book. “Bram decided to write a story based on his meeting of such supposedly mythological beings. And when he did, he paid tribute to a dear friend by including him in the story.”

Barbara puts the book down on the pass through counter between them and Oswald reads the cover. “Bram Stoker’s _Dracula_? Jim knew _Bram Stoker_?”

“Quite well, from what my grandfather told me when I was a child. They were the best of friends. And when Bram created his character Van Helsing, he used Jim somewhat as his model. Except he gave Van Helsing red hair instead of blond. Look, here, I’ll read you part of it.”

Oswald gapes as Barbara opens the book, reads, “ _Van Helsing, a man of medium height, strongly built, with his shoulders set back over a broad, deep chest and a neck well balanced on the trunk as the head is on the neck. The poise of the head strikes me at once as indicative of thought and power._ ”

“Um… okay?” Oswald says. “It isn’t…”

She holds up a hand, reads, “ _Big, dark blue eyes are set widely apart, and are quick and tender or stern with the man's moods._ ”

“Holy crap.”

“Also, do you think Jim Gordon was born three hundred years ago and actually named James William Gordon?”

“I… oh. No?”

“Jim is the name he now prefers. If you want to know his birth name, however, you’re going to have to ask him that yourself.”

“Why won’t you tell me?”

“Because I don’t know it,” she says. “Names have power, Ozzie. Knowledge of a true name allows a person to affect another person or being magically. And while Jim trusts me, I think he’d only give his true name to someone he can trust completely.”

“ _Me?_ ”

“Are you going to betray him, Oswald? Betray your mate?”

“I… no! Of course not, I didn’t even tell Fish what she wanted to know about him! I swear!”

“And I believe you,” Barbara responds, smiling. “But from what I gather, there once was a family clan of hunters, and they used to be quite mysterious. That part’s somewhat rumor, but you never know.”

Oswald can’t wrap his mind around what she’s saying. So his mate is actually a hunter of supernatural beings? He opens a can of chick peas, drains it, and dumps it into the food processor with garlic and his other ingredients. He whizzes the food together to create a thick hummus, and as soon as he’s done pouring it into a bowl, Barbara’s got a piece of radish in it. “I’m not sure what to say to this. Are you telling me Jim hunts other supernatural creatures?”

“No. I’m telling you Jim hunts anyone or anything that’s evil. He’s been doing it since he was born, before he was bitten. He’s a good man, Ozzie. You’re very lucky to have him.”

“But what about…?” Oswald gestures between himself and Barbara. “Why didn’t… why aren’t… um. I have no idea how to ask this,” he confesses. “And I don’t want to be turned into a toad.”

Barbara bursts out laughing. “Are you asking me why I’m not with Jim?”

“Yes?”

“Well for one thing, I prefer sleeping with women,” she says. “And while I’m single at the moment, it’s not a permanent circumstance. Secondly, Jim’s too strong a man for me. If I choose to take a boy into my bed, I’d like him to be a lot younger and less experienced, so I can train him to be what I want.” She pauses, winks at him. “Why do you think I pet you so much and tell you when you’re a good boy?”

Oswald gapes. She pops a piece of celery into the hummus and then nibbles at it. “Not that I’d poach from Jim, mind you. But I can certainly enjoy spoiling you a bit while you’re here.”

“You…? Me? Really?”

“Darling boy,” she says. “You’re exactly what I’d take home with me if I were looking: young, sweet, dreadfully naïve and innocent, shy, and with a lovely, lovely pale complexion that reddens every time I touch you.”

As Oswald blushes, she adds, “Or even when I don’t touch you and simply compliment you. You’re adorable.”

“Thank you,” he mumbles, and covers his face with his hands. “Oh, I’m so embarrassed.”

“Come on, Ozzie,” she says, and picks up the bowl of hummus. “You carry the veggies, I’ve got the hummus, and we can go into the den. I’m sure there’s something on TV that we can agree on.”

“I like almost any classic movie,” he volunteers. “My mother used to show me the classics when I was little.”

“Well then a Hitchcock marathon might not be such a bad idea,” she says. “Because I love his movies, too. Any objection to starting with _The Birds_?”

Oswald stops dead in his tracks and glares at her. “You know Fish Mooney made fun of my limp and called me Penguin, right?”

“Remember, darling. In the movie, we’re left with the impression that the birds win. Life imitating art, hmm?”

Oh. He hadn’t really thought about it, but she’s right. “Do you think… do you think you and Jim really might be able to clean up Gotham?”

“I think, if the three of us work together, we can accomplish mostly anything. We just need you to get in touch with your wolf, darling. And then we can up the body count as appropriate.”

Oswald swallows. He’s very, very glad Jim and Barbara consider him to be on their side, because, “You’re kind of really fucking scary.”

“I know,” she says. “Now, come along, before I eat this entire bowl with my fingers.”

He follows her into the den, where she sits on the couch and stretches out upon in. She pats the floor near where her head rests. “I liked that you came and sat at my feet earlier,” she says. “I’d like you to sit on the floor in front of me. That way, we can both reach the snacks.”

He doubts the snacks are her only consideration, but he likes her too much to fuss. Besides, knowing that Jim loves him and Barbara likes spoiling him, well… it’s too much to turn down. He sits where she directs him and holds out the plate of vegetables for her perusal. Then he takes his own bite while she sets up the movie.

They sit through _The Birds_ , _Rear Window_ , and _Vertigo_. By the time they’re into _North By Northwest_ , it’s late, and they’ve yet to see hide nor hair of Jim. “Don’t fret,” Barbara tells him. “I know Jim. When he gets on a case, he’ll lose his sense of time. He’ll be home tonight, have no doubts. I’m sure he can’t wait to get back to you, either.”

“But this is different,” Oswald says. “This time, he’s investigating a crime he committed! I don’t understand how the two of you can be so calm about it.”

“Because it’s not the first time. You have to understand, darling, that you’ve always looked at the grey area. There’s right, there’s wrong, and you’ve been playing somewhere in between, yes?”

Oswald nods. Barbara grins. “But what you don’t understand is that grey doesn’t really exist. Black is the absence of all color; white is the reflection of all color. The area in between should be clear; transparent. And that’s how magic works. Magic is the ability to take everything transparent and manipulate it to your own whims. I want the cameras to stop working at the club, or change the footage? I create a new, separate transparency. Someone finds Jim’s fingerprints at the club? He’s there investigating and he’s been there before. No one would suspect him to have turned into a werewolf and massacred the staff.”

“So he’s safe?”

“He’s probably safer investigating those murders than he is on a normal day chasing criminals.”

The reassurance helps, a little. But Oswald still can’t help but fidget. He wants Jim, he wants his _Alpha_. He wants to go back to bed with Jim wrapped around him, trapping him, making him feel like the center of Jim’s universe. He’s never had that before and he yearns for it again.

They finish the film and, as though summoned by some magic, when the credits start rolling, Oswald hears the elevator doors ding, announcing Jim’s arrival home. He grins at Barbara and bounces to his feet, rushing from the den into the foyer. “Jim!” he cries. “You’re home!”

He’s in no way ready for Jim to grab him by his shoulders and shake him, snarling. He scrambles back, cowering, whimpering at Jim’s sudden aggression, flinches when Jim shouts, “Liar!” at the top of his lungs.

“I… what?”

“Tell me the truth, you little liar,” Jim snarls. “Did you set me up?”

“Set you up? What are you talking about?” Oswald asks.

“What are you two shouting about?” Barbara asks, as she appears. “James, what’s the matter?”

“This… this liar, he set me up, he’s been screwing with us from the moment Harvey pulled him out of that trunk.”

“What? No I haven’t!”

“Really? Then why did you ask _Don Falcone to let me be the man to kill you_?”

Oh. Oh, shit. Oswald’s mouth opens and closes and he has nothing, there’s nothing he can say because he’d forgotten, he’d _forgotten_ about his promise to Don Falcone, to snitch for the man as long as Falcone sent Jim to be the one to pull the trigger. “It wasn’t like that,” he says, and oh. Now even Barbara looks livid. “Please, it’s not like you think…”

“Really? Because I think Don Falcone caught you feeding information to cops, and when he caught you, you begged him to select me to be the man to kill you.”

“Because I knew you were a good man and I didn’t think you’d pull the trigger!” Oswald says. “Not because I was trying to… to seduce you, or whatever it is you think! And how did you find out about that, anyway?”

“Victor Zsasz,” Jim snarls, and Oswald cringes. “Oh yes, another friend of yours, isn’t he?”

“He’s no friend of mine.”

“That’s not the impression he gave me.”

“Then he was lying!”

“Like you’ve been lying all along!” Jim roars, and wow. Oswald takes a few steps backwards. “Or did I misunderstand him, when he said how surprised he was that you hadn’t made it back to Don Falcone’s house yet, since you owe the man a debt?”

“I… I…”

Jim growls, and Oswald says, “I sold him out! Jim, I sold one of Falcone’s men out to the cops, I was trying to get him off of the streets!”

“You’re still lying!” Jim shouts. “Jesus Christ, you’re still lying to me! You were trying to save your own ass by snitching to Montoya and Allen, Oswald. So you told Don Falcone you’d do what, exactly? Ingratiate yourself to Maroni? Ingratiate yourself to a cop? Who were you supposed to fall in with?”

“Maroni,” Oswald says, and suddenly all of the fear goes out of him, leaving nothing but a cold, dead ball in his stomach. “I was supposed to go to Maroni, ask him for protection since Falcone wanted me killed. And once I knew enough about Maroni’s operations, I was supposed to report it back to Don Falcone, and he’d reward me with my life and move me up in his organization.”

“Fuck,” Jim spits. He paces back and forth, the red Alpha wolf flashing in his eyes. “So you didn’t go to Maroni, instead you came to me.”

“You told me to come to you! And if I hadn’t asked Don Falcone to send you to kill me, the outcome wouldn’t have mattered, because I’d be dead,” Oswald says. “I didn’t know you when I asked him to choose you to pull the trigger. The only thing I knew was that you’re a good, honest man, and I might be able to beg you to spare me! Because no one else would’ve spared me, Jim, and I’d be dead!”

Jim stops his pacing, grabs Oswald by the arms and holds him still. He looks into Oswald’s eyes and asks, “Why didn’t you tell me any of this?”

“What was I supposed to say?” Oswald mumbles. “You already knew I was marked for death; when I woke up, I came straight to you and Barbara, like you told me to. I wasn’t planning to ever go back to Falcone. I wasn’t going to betray you to anyone.”

“But you still lied to me. Even if it was a lie of omission.” 

“I know,” Oswald says. “Jim, I get ahead of myself and I don’t think things all the way through. I’m clever but impatient. I’m not the strongest or the smartest. I’m twenty-three and I was trying to make a life for myself in a city full of gangsters. I don’t come from money, I’ve got barely a high school degree, and I’ve got a mother who only cares about me when I’ve supposedly run off with women of ill-repute! I had one chance to have a white knight save me from what was almost certain death. Why wouldn’t I have picked you?”

“Oswald…”

Oswald’s vision is blurring. Tears, he realizes. “I’m sorry I lied. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you after the fact, I’m sorry I’m not the guy who’s worthy of being mated to a man like you. I’m just really fucking sorry.”

Jim releases Oswald from his grasp, takes a step backwards. “I’m sorry, too.”

Oswald crumples; his knees won’t support him anymore and he sinks to the floor. “I’m sorry,” he says again.

Jim steps over him, strides down the long hallway, and slams the bedroom door behind him. Oswald’s left staring at the darkened hallway, shamed and alone. 

Or not alone, maybe. “Give him time, Oswald,” Barbara says, gently. Oh, God, she overheard all of it, and now she’s back to using his full name. “Give him time to cool off, he’s angry, but he’ll forgive you.”

“No, he won’t,” Oswald says. He wipes his nose with the back of his hand and chokes, “How could he believe me when I’ve done nothing but ruin everything since he bit me that day on the pier?”

“Because he’s stubborn, and he’s honorable, and he knotted you,” she says, bluntly. “And you’ve hurt him, yes; but he’s not a man who’ll give up on you, either. He’s not built that way.”

“So because he knotted me, he’s stuck with me. Because that’s how he’s built, right? Wolves mate for life.”

“Oswald…”

Oswald pushes himself to his feet, says, “I just, I can’t. Please. Let me have space?”

“Don’t do anything rash,” she warns, and when he rolls his eyes, she says, “I’m serious. I’m going to go lock down the elevator for the night. You go nowhere. You do nothing. And I swear to you, this will look better in the morning. You blindsided him and hurt him and he’s angry, yes; but that doesn’t mean he hates you or resents taking you as his own.”

“But…”

“He needs his space as much as you do, you ridiculous boy,” she says, frustrated. “Give the man a chance! Why are men so impossibly thick-headed?”

Oswald stares at the carpet, ashamed, and she touches his arm. “Go sleep on the couch. It’s no more than you deserve, frankly. Face it again tomorrow. I’m going to bed.”

He feels her leave, but he can’t force his feet to the sofa. He stands in the foyer for a moment more and then pads down the hall towards Jim’s room. Oswald’s glad once more that Barbara’s bedroom is on the other end of the apartment, because he has a feeling she’d be yelling at him right now. He toes out of his sneakers, takes off his jeans and socks and briefs, pulls the plaid shirt over his head so he’s bare. He folds his clothes and puts them off to the side. And then, defeated, stripped down to nothing, he lays on the carpet in front of Jim’s door and whines.

The room inside goes silent. Oswald knows that Jim can sense him in the hallway, but he doesn’t do anything to push Jim. He’s let out a whine and that’s enough; Jim will know he’s there, sleeping on the floor in the hallway, close to his Alpha and yet farther from him than ever. This is a self-inflicted punishment, one he’ll gladly bear if it means Jim won’t eventually send him away. He curls into a ball on the floor, closes his eyes, and prays for sleep to claim him.


	6. Hips Don’t Lie

When he wakes up, he’s still on the floor, and he’s shivering. He isn’t sure what woke him until Jim’s bedroom door opens and the man himself stares down at Oswald. Jim purses his lips, bends over, and picks Oswald up. Within minutes he’s tucked into the still-warm sheets of Jim’s bed.

The only problem? Jim’s dressed in a suit. “Where’re you going?”

“Work,” Jim replies. He glares at Oswald. “I’m not going to stay at the station the entire day, but Harvey and I have some leads to chase down in regards to Fish Mooney’s death.”

“Oh. All right.”

“So here are your rules until I get home.”

Oswald snaps his head up, but before he can speak, Jim raises a hand. “Don’t. You have no idea how much I want to force you to submit to me right now. And if you think I can be scary when I fuck you, imagine what it would feel like when I’m in the Alpha form.”

Oswald nearly bites through his tongue in his effort to shut his mouth. Jim continues with, “Saying I’m angry doesn’t begin to cover how fucking pissed I am. So today is punishment. You stay in my bed unless you need the bathroom, and if you do, then you go directly there and come directly back. You don’t talk to Barbara. If you’re thirsty, you can get a drink, but only water. If you’re hungry, you can grab a granola bar out of my nightstand. You’ll find a lot of them because I’m always hungry. Do you understand?”

“Yes?”

“Are you asking me, or telling me?” Jim snarls.

“Yes, Jim.”

“Good. You don’t turn on the TV, the radio, and you don’t touch any of my books. I’ll know if you do because remember, I can hear your heartbeat when you lie to me.”

“I wasn’t lying last night!” Oswald says, and receives another snarl for his trouble. “Not really!”

While he burrows into the covers in anguish, he hears Jim huff and answer, “I know.”

He peeks out from the blanket nest he’s created. “You do?”

“Yes,” Jim says. “You were honest last night, which is the only reason you’re still in my bed.”

Oh. Oswald’s glad he said what he said last night, then, even if it was hard to do so. “Were you… were you going to get rid of me?”

“Yes,” Jim says. “If you continued lying to me, I would’ve asked Barbara’s parents to help me find a way to suppress the bond and I would’ve left you to deal with Don Falcone by yourself. Even if it meant I’d be alone until I died, Oswald, because I don’t think I can deal with my own mate having it in for me.”

The finality in what Jim says makes Oswald say, “I swear I’d never do anything to intentionally hurt you. Or Barbara,” he says. “I swear, I didn’t mean to lie, whether by omission or otherwise.”

“And yet by omitting such a hugely important fact, I’m now having to rework plans to keep you safe. Which would’ve been easier had I known about this deal between you and Falcone to begin with.”

Oswald hangs his head and Jim growls. “I want you to take today to consider what you’ve done by hiding this from me.”

“Yes, Jim.”

“And I want you to think about whether or not there are other things I need to know,” he continues. “Should I be aware of anything else in regards to Falcone? What about Zsasz? Do you have any other secrets that you think you should tell me? Anything about your mother? I want you to consider these things today while you lay in my bed. When I get back from the precinct, we’re going to talk, you and I. At that time, you should be ready to tell me anything at all that you feel is important. Because if you’re not honest with me, there’s no way this will work.”

“Are you going to be just as honest with me?”

“Yes,” Jim says. “But for right now, we’re focusing on you. And I know that doesn’t seem fair, but your history has the ability to get me killed. So decide what you want to tell me.”

“I… I promise I’m not looking for excuses, but what if I miss something?”

“It better as fuck not be something as important as a deal with Don Falcone,” Jim scowls. 

“No! I mean, what if I make mistakes?”

“I make mistakes, for Christ’s sake. I don’t expect you to be perfect. But if I make a mistake with you, I’m sure as fuck not going to lie to you about it.”

Right. He deserves that one. “I promise not to leave the bed unless I have to,” he says. “And I promise to think about what happened and do my best to think of anything else I should tell you. But… do you have a notepad? So I may make notes? Please? I know that wasn’t in your instructions, but…”

“No, that’s a good idea. I’ll get you a pad and pen, I’ll be right back.”

Jim leaves and returns quickly, a notepad and mechanical pencil in his hand. He sets it on the nightstand and stares at Oswald. “I’m so goddamn angry, and it’s not even because Zsasz blindsided me,” he growls. “It’s because you had every opportunity to tell me beforehand. I told you I’d have to work to trust you when you decided to leave and Fish’s people grabbed you, but this? This is just icing on the cake. And I know you’re not an idiot, Oswald, but I wonder sometimes.”

“Why are you even bothering, then?” Oswald asks.

“Because you’re my idiot, and I still love you, even though I still want to rip out your throat with my teeth.”

Oswald gapes and Jim shakes his head with a sigh. “I know. Mixed signals, right?”

The bigger man leans over the bed and puts a kiss on Oswald’s forehead. “I’ll see you in a few hours,” he says. “Do what I say. And I’ll try to be calmer when we talk again.”

Oswald nods. He watches Jim close the door behind him, leaving Oswald alone with his thoughts.

None of his thoughts are particularly good.

He gets up and goes to the bathroom, relieves himself, takes a moment to brush his teeth and then scampers back to Jim’s room. He knows why Jim sentenced him to stay in bed; Jim’s scent is everywhere in the room. But instead of the heady, soothing aroma of Jim’s scent, he can smell Jim’s stress and anxiety from the night before. It’s destroying Oswald’s concentration and he whimpers, tucking himself further into the blankets. 

Jim’s punishment is an evil one.

Oswald wants to talk to Barbara, wants to ask her for her advice, but he’s been forbidden to do so. He wants to focus on the things he should tell Jim, but he can’t collect his thoughts. He feels foolish and stupid; he knows he screwed up by not confiding in Jim, but he was terrified of so many things and he _literally, sincerely forgot_ about Don Falcone. How could anyone forget about Don Falcone?

Jim’s right. He’s an idiot.

After wallowing for a while, he picks himself up and starts making notes on Falcone and his associates. Then makes more notes about Falcone’s businesses, including everything he knows about Fish’s operations. Then he starts a list of all of the known drug-dealers in Falcone’s territory, especially those encroaching on Falcone’s profits.

It doesn’t take long for Oswald to run out of paper. He decides to risk Jim’s fury, pulls on his jeans, and goes into the living room to see Barbara. She glares at him when she spots him. “Please tell me you’re kidding me, coming out here.”

“I’m not here to talk!” Oswald says. “I just need another notepad and pencil. I swear.”

She points him to a desk drawer and he collects what he needs, says, “Thank you” over his shoulder, and hurries back into the bedroom. When he lands back in Jim’s bed, he tears off a clean sheet and starts making a list of everything he knows about Maroni, Maroni’s associates, and his business.

He gets a cramp in his fingers from all of his scribbling.

By the time he thinks he has a pretty good outline, he then makes a separate page, and titles it “Oswald”. He starts with his favorite color (purple) and creates a list of things he thinks Jim would like to know about him personally.

He’s still writing when there’s a knock on the bedroom door. He perks up when he realizes the visitor is Jim. “Alpha?” he asks, tentatively.

The door opens. Jim looks more tired than angry and Oswald says, “I’ve done what you asked me.”

“And did you follow all of my rules?”

“Yes. Well, sort of? I had to ask Barbara for more paper, but I came straight back here, I swear.”

Jim nods, the crinkle in his brow smoothing out at Oswald’s admission. “Good. Thank you for telling me that you spoke to Barbara.”

“It… it was just for a second, so I could keep writing notes?”

Jim sighs, drops onto the bed next to Oswald. “I know, and I’m not upset you asked her for the assistance. I can’t fault you for trying to do the task I assigned you to the best of your ability.”

“I… thank you, Jim.”

“Mmm.” Jim pats his lap. “And now I know exactly what I want from you.”

“What?”

“I want you to get out of those jeans and fold yourself over my lap.”

Oswald freezes. “What?”

“I want you out of those jeans and folded over my lap, face first. I know you understand the words coming out of my mouth, Oswald.”

“But why?”

“I’ve been driving myself crazy all day, trying to think of some way to make it clear that I’m not joking with you when I tell you how angry I am. And since you’re a wolf, there’s no real lasting physical punishment I can give you that you won’t heal from. So I had to get creative. Today has been essentially time-out. And now, since I’ve had to treat you like a child, I’m going to finish with a spanking. The hurt won’t last, but I hope the embarrassment will. That way, I’ll never have to repeat it.”

Oswald’s not sure he wants a spanking. He’s not sure he won’t get turned on. But as though Jim could read it on his face, the older man says, “Trust me, you’re not going to find this one arousing.”

Oswald swallows hard, stands up, and works open the fly of his jeans with shaking hands. It takes him three tries to pop the button, but he’s soon shoving them over his hips, dropping them to the floor. It leaves him standing in grey briefs and he shifts back and forth on his feet.

“Lose the underwear as well.”

Oh, God. Oswald can’t meet Jim’s eyes as he pushes the underwear down and off, stands before Jim naked and shivering. “Come here,” Jim commands.

Oswald folds himself over Jim’s lap, letting his soft cock and balls nestle in the vee of Jim’s legs. He doesn’t know what to do with his hands, but it doesn’t matter; Jim guides his wrists together, pins them to the mattress. “Don’t move them from this spot.”

“No, Alpha,” Oswald replies, voice soft. 

Jim holds him around his waist, gives him no warning when the first blow descends upon his skin. Oswald sucks in a huge breath, yelps; the sting blooms and fades in an instant, but still he flushes from the knowledge that he’s being spanked like a child. “P… please,” he says, mortified. 

“Are you sorry?” Jim asks.

“Yes!”

Three more slaps crash down onto his ass. Jim’s not holding back, either – the spanks burn and throb for the moments before they fade away into nothingness. “Still sorry?”

Oswald has no idea what his Alpha wants. “Yes?”

Another round of smacks. Oswald squirms, shudders when Jim barks, “Hold still!” and smacks him again.

“Please!”

“Please what?”

“Please, I’m sorry! I don’t know what else you want me to say!”

“How about ‘Jim, I’ll never lie to you again’? Or how about ‘Jim, I promise not to be so foolish in the future’?”

“I didn’t know what else to do!” Oswald shouts. “I didn’t have anyone else to depend on, and I swear I really forgot about Don Falcone because I’d already promised to give you everything I had and was never going back to him!”

Jim spanks him, over and over and over, until Oswald’s nerves snap and he starts crying. “I’m sorry,” he says, sobbing. “I’m sorry!”

“There we go,” Jim says, stroking Oswald’s back. “That’s what I was waiting for.”

“You. You wanted me to cry?” Oswald sniffles. He rolls on his side and looks up at Jim. “Why?”

“Emotionally vulnerable,” Jim says. “I told you, you weren’t going to enjoy it. Do you ever want to feel like this again?”

When Oswald shakes his head no, Jim says, “So what’re you going to do about it?”

“Be honest.”

“And?”

Oswald blinks. “Uh. And, uh. Tell you things?”

“How about trusting me?”

“I do!”

Jim gives him a narrow-eyed stare. “I’m trying to trust you?” Oswald says, meekly.

“Try harder.”

“Yes, Alpha.”

Jim gives him one last smack on the ass, but this one is lighter and more playful than the others. The pain’s gone, but the shame still remains. “I don’t want to have to do that ever again, Ozzie.”

Oswald can’t help it; he wiggles off of Jim’s lap and kneels in front of the larger man, says, “Use me, then.”

Jim’s eyes go round. “Oswald…”

“No,” Oswald says. “I should trust you, yes? Then I should be able to trust you to use my mouth without hurting me. I… I want to be good for you.”

Jim gives him a half-grin. “Ozzie, I’d be a miserable prick to fuck your mouth right after I’ve spanked you for disobedience.”

“But…”

“No. And that’s how you know you can trust me. I’m never going to take misuse your innocence or take advantage of your inexperience. Anyone who would do that? Doesn’t deserve you.”

Wow. Oswald’s torn between grateful and ready for more tears. Jim’s not going to take advantage of him. He treats Oswald with respect even after punishing him. He has no idea what to do now. “Do. Um. Do you want to go over the notes I made?”

“Actually, I’d like to hold you for a while. And Barbara said she’d order Chinese for dinner, so there are probably leftovers in the fridge for us to eat.”

Oswald’s suddenly ravenous, but he wants Jim’s affections more. He staggers to his feet and collapses against Jim, burying his face in Jim’s neck. “I do want to be good for you.”

Jim kisses him. “I know. Now up on the bed, so I can get undressed.”

Oswald delights in watching Jim shed his suit, shirt, and underwear. His Alpha slowly reveals his body and Oswald can’t help but stare. When Jim’s finally nude, he slips into the bed and yanks Oswald to him so that Oswald’s draped over the larger man’s chest. A little wiggling has their legs intertwined and Jim sighs. “This is good,” he says.

“Is it?”

“Having my mate in my arms? Yeah.”

“Even though you punished me today?”

“I thought about that a lot, Ozzie. Did you ever have any guidance when you were younger? Male influence?”

“No…?”

“That’s what I thought. Something you said last night, about being twenty-three and barely having a diploma bugged me. School wasn’t a thing when I was little,” Jim says, and Oswald blinks. “Remember, I’m talking about the eighteen hundreds. But you know what I had? I had a Papa who’d beat my ass if I stepped out of line, if I was rude to my mother or didn’t do my chores or was impossible to live with. You didn’t have that. So I’m going to have to make some allowances for you, your age, and give you more guidance than I first thought.”

“And that’s okay with you?”

“Baby,” Jim says, and kisses Oswald’s forehead. “That’s more than okay with me. I was pissed last night, and I can’t promise to always be rational, but give me a chance. I’ll get better at handling your ridiculousness. We both need time.”

Oswald feels a warmth blossom in his chest, and he snuggles closer. “So you don’t think I’m hopeless?”

“I don’t think you’re hopeless.”

Oswald burrows into Jim’s side. “And you still want me?”

“And I still want you,” Jim confirms. “And before we do anything else, I’m going to bite you so you can get in touch with your wolf.”

“You are?”

“Yes. Because if Zsasz or Falcone come after you, now that they know you’re alive, I want you to have every resource available to defend yourself. I talked to Harvey earlier and we’re both going to work mid-morning to evening tomorrow to see if we can get anywhere on Fish’s murder.”

“What are you going to do?”

“That’s an easy one. Zsasz did it.”

Oswald blinks. “He did?”

“Yeah. You just leave that to me, Ozzie. For now, we should get dressed and go eat that Chinese. And then bed. Tomorrow’s going to be a big day for you.”

“Does it hurt for you to wake up my wolf?”

“No,” Jim says. “In fact, I think you’re going to enjoy it.”

Oswald frowns, unsure. “Really?”

“Really.” Jim slides from the bed. “Now come on, I know you’ve skipped food today.”

“I couldn’t eat,” Oswald says, getting up from the bed and pulling his jeans back on. “Your scent was everywhere and it was really distracting.”

“Yeah, well, I was furious all day, so I guess we’re even. Let’s not fight if we can help it, okay?”

“Deal.”

They make their way to the kitchen; Barbara is thankfully nowhere around, because Oswald isn’t sure he wants to see her yet. Jim takes two plates out, piles them high with leftover lo mein, and pops the first into the microwave. “I see you did a good job making lists for me to review.”

“I tried really hard to write down everything I know,” Oswald says. “About Falcone, Maroni, and… um, about me.”

At that, Jim’s head snaps up from the plate. “You made me a list of things about you?”

Oswald nods. Jim says, “While I reheat this, go get that list.”

“But what about Maroni and Falcone?”

“I’m going to bring those to work with me tomorrow and pick Harvey’s brain.”

“Good luck with that,” Oswald mutters, resentfully. “He’s one of them, you know.”

“Actually, I don’t think he is. I’ve met men like Harvey Bullock before, Ozzie. Sometimes they’re bitter and jaded and just need someone to give them a cause.”

“And you trust him?”

“Yeah,” Jim replies. “Because I saw the way he treated you the minute he realized you were alive. Did you notice?”

Oswald hadn’t noticed much of anything and shakes his head no. “Ozzie. If Harvey wasn’t a little relieved to see you alive, he’d have said as much. He then went so far as to threaten you for my sake and Barbara’s, even though you’re about as threatening as a field mouse.”

“Hey! I resent that!”

“Doesn’t make it any less true,” Jim says. “Now go. Get the ‘all about Oswald’ list.”

Oswald obeys. By the time he finds it in amongst the paperwork, Jim’s putting a plate on the counter for him to chew on. Oswald is mid-bite into an eggroll when Jim says, “You can draw?”

“Oh, yes. I’ve always liked art. I do pencil or pen drawings mostly. And, don’t make fun, but I love to draw birds.”

“I’m not going to make fun of that. You remember that guy, what was his name, Audubon? He made a pretty good living drawing animals and plants and stuff.”

“You’re mocking me.”

“No!” Jim protests. “I’m not! I just don’t know a lot about art! But I know Audubon.”

Oswald gives him a narrow-eyed glare, but Jim doesn’t waiver. “Hmm,” he says.

“I swear,” Jim says. And with that, he leans over and steals a bite of Oswald’s egg roll.

“You… you!” Oswald gasps. “You thieving snake in the grass!”

Jim chews with his mouth open like an ill-mannered lout. “You’ll have to do something about that.”

Oswald looks at Jim’s plate, reaches over, and attempts snatching Jim’s egg roll, only for Jim to catch his hand. “Nice try, kid. Faster next time?”

“Why…”

And then Jim pulls his plate away, walks around the kitchen pass bar, and sits next to Oswald. “Give me your fork,” the blond says.

Oswald hands his fork to Jim in time for Jim to stab a piece of broccoli and beef. “Open your mouth.”

Oswald’s mouth opens and Jim neatly puts the bite of food between Oswald’s lips. “Take it,” Jim growls, and Oswald does, feeling his blood beat a little faster through his veins. “Do you want more?”

“Yes, Alpha,” Oswald replies, and there – the comment has Jim’s eyes flashing red with lust. “Please?”

The next bite is the same size, but Oswald kitten-licks the food from the tines. Jim breaks off a piece of his own egg roll with his fingers and holds it up to Oswald’s mouth. Oswald doesn’t hesitate; he laps at Jim’s thumb and pointer finger, pulls the bite into his mouth, chews and swallows.

As soon as he’s not going to choke, Jim’s kissing him.

Oswald’s arms move of their own volition to come up to Jim’s neck so he can hold on, snuggle more closely into Jim’s arms. “I want you,” he whispers into his Alpha’s ear. “I know you said you’d be taking advantage, but please, I’ll beg for it, I really want you inside of me.”

“Oswald…”

“I’ve had my punishment, Jim. Won’t you reward me for making such good notes and following your orders afterwards?”

“Jesus fuck,” Jim breathes, and then _picks Oswald up and carries him into the bedroom_. 

Oswald’s not turned on by that at all.

It doesn’t take long for Jim to strip Oswald’s jeans away, and Oswald doesn’t hesitate to spread his legs as soon as his Alpha’s undressed. “Jim, please…?”

“What do you want, baby?”

“Want you in me,” Oswald replies, and if he weren’t so turned on he’d be embarrassed by how needy he sounds. “Please, I’m so wet for you?”

And it’s true; from the moment Jim picked him up, Oswald had been steadily leaking slick. Jim doesn’t penetrate him, though. Jim teases his hole with two fingers, spreading the wetness around on his thighs and the cheeks of his ass. “I could put you on my knot just like this. Pick you up and drop you down on me, make you ride me.”

“Oh, please, yes. That. I want you to!”

“You want that? Want to ride me? You think you can take charge of me?”

It doesn’t take long for Oswald to realize that this is what Jim wants; that if Oswald wants Jim’s knot, then he’s going to have to man up and make it happen. “Lie on your back,” he tells Jim, watching the blond man grin. “Stop smiling like that. I get it; you want me to take it.”

“You’re a good boy,” Jim says. “I knew a smart boy like you would figure it out.”

“Hateful,” Oswald says, and grasps Jim’s cock in one hand. He straddles Jim’s lap and sinks down on the hot, pulsing flesh. “Oh, God, that’s…”

There are no words for how good Jim feels. How right. “Ride me, Ozzie.”

Oswald shifts his hips back and forth, takes Jim deeper inside him with each motion. It feels so different, when he can set the pace; when it’s not just Jim driving into all of his tender places, but where he gets to chase his own desire. It feels even better when Jim sits up so they’re nose-to-nose. Oswald groans as it shifts the angle of Jim’s cock, drawing it further away from his prostate but somehow makes him feel fuller. “This is amazing,” he pants, when Jim cups his face. “Oh. I… oh!”

Jim’s kissing a path down his neck, his lips coming to rest at the base of Oswald’s throat. “Ozzie?”

“Wha?”

“Get ready for it.”

“For what?”

“I want you to shift for me.”

Wait, what? Now?

But before Oswald can say anything, Jim’s bringing his hand up to Oswald’s mouth and pushing bloody fingertips between his lips. Oswald gags and yanks his head back, ready to shout at Jim; he doesn’t get the opportunity. Jim’s face changes; his teeth elongate and he closes his mouth around Oswald’s throat. Oswald lets out a ‘meep’ but it’s too late; Jim’s biting him, and all of his endorphins are going haywire, and suddenly – 

_Hot_   
_Wet_   
_Blood_   
_Mate_

Oswald blinks, yips, squirms around, finds himself on his belly on the bed with his Alpha over him, his back to his Alpha’s chest, but he can’t get traction on the bed because his paws are going haywire…

_Shit fucking shit what the fuck…?_

_Easy._ A voice says in his head. Oswald feels the amusement/humor/affection lace the word. _You’ve taken my blood and submitted. You’ll get used to your paws soon, puppy._

Jim is fucking him in wolf form. Jim is fucking him in wolf form? Oswald cranes his neck over his (remarkably furry) shoulder. _Jim?_ he thinks. _Can you read my mind?_

_Nope. But pack can communicate through thoughts like this. You’re a beautiful wolf, Oswald. Black as midnight with huge green-blue eyes. Almost as pretty now as you are in human form._

It takes Oswald’s brain a few seconds to realize Jim’s not human at the moment either. They ‘re both in the ‘puppy’ form, as Barbara describes it, and _Jim is fucking him like the dog he is._

_Are you freaking out on me?_ Jim asks.

_This is a whole new take on the idea of doggie style!_ Oswald mentally sputters. _This is… it’s…_

Jim shifts his hips, moves the knot along Oswald’s inner walls, and Oswald’s sputtering becomes sputtering of a completely different kind. _Feels good though, yeah?_

_This is not something you spring on someone,_ Oswald bitches.

_So should I stop? Pull out? Leave you here?_

_If you do, I’ll… I’ll bite off your balls!_

Jim’s tongue lolls out of his mouth and he huffs a laugh. _Good to know._

_I still don’t approve?_

_Why not? It’s not like I’m going to take a wolf form and fuck you while you’re still human-shaped. Haven’t you ever seen two dogs mate?_

_No I haven’t,_ Oswald says. Thinks. Whatever. _If you didn’t notice, I’ve not had a lot of contact with anything remotely sexual. Including watching those kinds of dirty movies._

_But I see you know about those kinds of dirty movies…?_

_That’s only because of the men I work with. Worked with, rather. They’re not what one would consider discrete. Or sane._

_Yeah, well. Now you won’t have to worry about those kinds of men again, all right? As soon as my knot goes down, I’ll teach you how to walk in paws. It’s fun when you get the hang of it. And Oswald? Just a heads-up. I don’t care what form you’re wearing, there won’t come a time when I’ll pass on the opportunity to be balls-deep in you._

Well, that’s definitely not a turn on. Nope. _Yes, Alpha._

Oswald might not get any verbal or mental reply, but he can feel Jim’s pleasure through their link, and it’s enough to make him squirm in delight.

The fabulous cock in his ass has nothing to do with it, of course.


	7. Loss and Gain

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> OMG. I can't believe how long it's been.... I am currently revising and trying to finish this monster. Bear with me......

In the weeks after he gets used to four legs instead of two, Oswald finds himself constantly in the wolf form. On this particular Friday afternoon, he’s lounging on the couch, drooling. He’s not huge like Jim; he stands maybe three feet to the shoulder, and has black, black fur which might get all over Barbara’s apartment and make her crazy.

“Oswald Chesterfield Cobblepot!”

Oswald jumps off the furniture, slinks down the hallway and slithers under Jim’s bed. Yes, he _knows_ he’s not supposed to be on the white couch while wearing fur, but it’s _so comfortable_ …

“Gotcha!”

He yelps, scurries out from under the bed and into the closet as Barbara’s feet come into view. “You get out of there, mister!” she shouts. “I’m going to skin you and use you as a rug!”

“What’s going on?” This is how Jim finds them; Oswald with Barbara’s hands around his back paws, dragging him out of the closet. “Ozzie, were you on the furniture again?”

Oswald whines, shakes his body so he can crawl into the closet and put his skin back on. “I can’t help it!” he says, once he emerges and has on a pair of sweatpants. “I love that couch! And by the time I remember not to be on the couch, it’s too late!”

“You get to clean it, then!” Barbara growls, doing rather a good imitation of a were-creature herself. “Vacuum’s in the hall closet, go.”

“But…”

“Now!”

He’s not a child, thank you, except for the fact that they’re both staring at him with guilt-inducing expressions. He mumbles to himself but heads to the living room, cleans his fur off of the couch and puts the vacuum away. “Sorry,” he says.

“You know, I was going to take you to your mother’s tonight, but…”

Oswald’s ears perk. Not quite literally, but close. He’s been waiting almost a month to see his mother, letting Jim plant enough false clues to blame Zsasz and have Jim, Barbara and Oswald safely off the hook. And Oswald’s managed to get a handle on his shifts, but… “Is it safe?”

“As safe as it’s ever going to be for you,” Jim says. He looks tired, but happy. “I don’t want her to think the worst.”

Jim’s been talking to Oswald’s mother for the last few weeks, ever since he sold her the cover story about Oswald helping the police. Oswald knows Gertrud is unique enough not to worry about his long absence – until she can torture him for it. “I’m not worried about her thinking the worst, she knows I’m not dead. But I want her to know. You know. About me? Loving you? She won’t care about my absence unless she thinks I’m off with a woman.”

“Well at least she doesn’t have to worry about that,” Barbara says, glancing between Oswald and Jim. She grins. “Just try not to look at Jim the way you normally look at Jim, and she won’t know a thing about anyone.”

“Maybe I can pass it off as hero worship?” Oswald asks, blushing. 

“Darling, no woman with a working brain and half an eyeball is going to think you’ve got a case of hero-worship.”

“Barbie, be nice,” Jim says. Oswald’s white knight, until he adds, “Oswald can’t help the puppy love expression.”

“You’re both hilarious.”

Jim yanks him into a giant hug, presses sloppy kisses to Oswald’s face. “You know we are.”

Oswald doesn’t fight him off. In fact, he leans into the embrace, curling up against Jim’s chest and nuzzling under his Alpha’s chin. 

“Oh God, she’s going to take one look at the two of you and be nauseous.”

“Barbara…”

“I’m serious! Oswald, do you really care if Gertrud knows about you and Jim?”

“I… I don’t know? I don’t know how she’ll react, is all,” Oswald says, wincing. “I’ve never had anybody before to bring home.”

“Well it’s about time you figured it out,” Barbara decides on his behalf. “Jim, go put on something nicer, since you’re going to meet your boyfriend’s parent. Oswald, you too.”

“Why do we let Barbara run our lives?” Oswald asks Jim, as they make their way to Jim’s bedroom. 

“I HEARD THAT!”

He flinches and Jim chuckles. “Mostly because she’s always right?”

Oswald is loath to admit it, but Jim has a point. “You’re really going to meet my mother as my boyfriend?”

“Can we say partner? I like partner. I can’t tell her you’re my mate, but boyfriend makes me feel like some sort of underage twink.”

Oswald snorts. “No one will ever think you’re a twink, Alpha. Me, on the other hand…”

“Mmm. I know. You’re a pretty, pretty boy, Ozzie.”

Oswald blushes, curses himself for blushing. “Thank you. Try not to do this in front of my mother? Please?”

“I’ll do my best.”

It’s a lie. A total lie, and Oswald glares at Jim while Jim looks at him innocently. “You’re a terrible man,” Oswald announces.

“I can’t believe it took you this long to figure that out,” Jim replies. He grins. “I promise not to embarrass you too much, baby.”

“Hmmph.”

They both change clothes, make themselves presentable for going out. Jim pulls on a pair of tight jeans and boots and a grey sweater; Oswald pulls on a pair of black pants and a dark grey shirt and a black sweater vest with a black bow tie. “You look good.”

“You do, too.”

They head out; it’s early still, just after seven, and it feels more like a date night then a trip to Oswald’s mother’s apartment. They take the subway so no one steals Barbara’s car on the seedier side of town.

Oswald’s not exactly embarrassed where his mother lives, but he’s not proud of it, either. When they get to her door, he knocks, and waits as he hears the four locks disengage from the other side. He never knew how sharp his hearing would get until he shifted into the wolf for the first time. When the door opens, he blinks at the woman in front of him, who cannot possibly be his mother. “Mom?”

She’s dressed as usual; long gown, shawl, bleached-blonde hair, too much makeup. The works. But her normal frown is gone, replaced by a… smile? “My baby boy!” she says, and Oswald winces. “You’re all right! You’ve come back to see your mother!”

“I… yes?”

“And brought your policeman friend, I see,” she says, nodding. “Come in! Sit! Detective Gordon tells me you have been helping him? Crucial to his cases?”

Oswald, in a fit of insanity, takes Jim’s hand in his and leads the bigger man into the apartment. They sit on a loveseat. “Mother, he’s more than my policeman friend,” Oswald blurts. Because he wants to tell her, he can’t not know how she’ll feel about him after the fact. “Jim’s…”

“He’s the man who has kept you away from those terrible women,” Gertrud says. “Saving you from the hussies!”

“No, mother, I…”

“You’ve been with the hussies?”

“I think I am the hussy,” Oswald grumbles. At Gertrud’s confused look, he says, “Mother. Jim saved my life, took me in, and he and I are together.”

“You are working as partners?”

“Mrs. Kapelput,” Jim cuts in smoothly. Thank God. “What Oswald’s trying to tell you is that I’m in love with him, and he returns my affections.”

That stops the conversation dead. “I do not understand,” Gertrud says, even though Oswald would bet his life on the opposite being true. “What does this mean?”

“Jim told you I was working with him, which is true,” Oswald says. Jim and Harvey have been making arrests like crazy thanks to all of Oswald’s notes. “But while I’ve been helping him, I realized… I realized that maybe I other options than before. He’s such a good man, mom, and it wasn’t hard for me to fall in love with him.”

Gertrud doesn’t say anything for a moment, but when she does, she explodes. She leaps out of her chair and goes straight for Jim, nails curved into claws. “You seduced him!” she shrieks. “You’ve stolen my baby, my innocent son!”

Jim catches her easily. “Mrs. Kapelput…”

She spits in his face and Oswald snarls, “Mother!”

“No!” she shouts, still struggling against Jim’s hold. “Not my boy, not my son! You aren’t… _zboczeniec_! This man has ruined you!”

Perverted, she’d said.

Oswald shoves his way between Jim and Gertrud, grateful to Jim for letting him barge in. “I am no foul pervert,” he says, fiercely, his back to Jim’s chest. “And you’ll not talk to my partner like that.”

“What have you become?” Gertrud cries. “Here I am thinking you’ve found a job, and this man has made you his catamite? You are the creation and destruction of Ganymedes!”

Leave it to his mother to quote ancient stories to him. “Ganymedes loved his Jupiter,” Oswald says. “And I’m no longer the child you can ignore until it’s convenient.”

“Mrs. Kapelput, Oswald loves you very deeply,” Jim says, wrapping an arm around Oswald’s body to hold him firm. “He wanted to come to you in person, tell you that he’d met someone.”

“I do not listen to perverts,” Gertrud snaps, and Oswald snarls at her. He can feel the wolf beneath his skin grow more and more agitated, wanted to rend flesh from bone in defense of his mate. 

“This man is mine, mother, and I would tear down anyone that stood in our way.”

“Oswald…” Jim says. Rumbles at him. “You need to control your temper.”

Oswald takes a deep breath, forces the anger down into something manageable. “Mother, please. I love him more than I’ve loved anyone, and he’s so good to me. Won’t you please be happy for me? For us?”

“I would be happy if you left,” Oswald’s mother replies. She has her hand to her mouth, tears in her eyes. “It would be better if you did not come back here. You are no son of mine.” 

“Mom…”

Gertrud steps away from them, walks to her door and opens it. She waits there, staring at them; it’s Jim who moves first. He gathers Oswald into his arms and helps Oswald put one foot in front of the other until they’re at the door. “One day you’ll come to regret your decision,” Jim says to her, as they leave. “I hope you realize it sooner rather than later, while you still have the chance to make things right between you.”

Gertrud doesn’t reply, simply closes the door in their faces. As soon as the locks click closed, Oswald shatters. Jim has to catch him as he collapses, but Oswald’s dead weight and sends them both to the floor. “Ozzie, can you get up? Come on, Ozzie, let’s not stay here.”

“Why?” Oswald sobs, clinging tightly to Jim’s chest. “Why? I’ve never been what she wanted but I thought I could still make her happy. I thought she’d be happy, knowing I’d found anyone who’d love me because no one’s ever loved me, Jim, no one until I found you, no one who wanted me as anything other than a target…”

“Sh,” Jim soothes, holding him. “Oswald, hush, baby. You’re my good boy, mine, my own, my most precious treasure. You and I will have each other forever, do you hear me? Together.”

“I knew she hated me,” Oswald says. He rubs a hand across his face. “She didn’t want me, you know. I ruined her body, ruined her career. Ruined everything for her. Like I do for everyone.”

“You’ve not ruined anything for me, baby,” Jim says, petting his face and his back. “You’ve only made my life better.”

“Bullshit,” Oswald says. “I know you and Barbara had planned to put this city to rights and I’ve slowed you down. Don’t deny it.”

“Ozzie, you need to stop that line of conversation right now,” Jim says, putting a hand over Oswald’s mouth. “Not in public. And you’re wrong.”

Oswald wiggles free, and in his pain, he says, “I’m always wrong, Jim. There’s something very, very wrong with me indeed. I was born a freak with a limp and queer, and now I’m a damn monster.”

“You’re not a monster,” Jim growls, and oh. Now he’s getting mad. “And I’d appreciate it if you’d stop referring to yourself that way because of your mother’s prejudices. There’s nothing wrong with you.”

Oswald can’t listen to Jim’s support. He knows deep down his Alpha’s right, but he’s angry and hurt and not thinking clearly. He doesn’t want to hear that he’s worth anything. He wants to run.

And run he does. Oswald destroys his clothes as he shifts, tears off down the hallway, ignoring his Alpha’s roar of, “Oswald!”

He tears down the stairs of the old apartment building, goes straight through the glass of the front door and heads into the darkness of Gotham’s shabbier underbelly. He passes the clubs, the hookers, the strung-out junkies and runs until he can’t breathe anymore.

When he slows to a stop, he finds himself outside a movie theater. He can see the lights, smell the popcorn and the sticky/sweet scent of candies. He hovers near a dumpster and pants, listening to the laughter of people passing by, the conversations, the happiness of those around him. He doesn’t hear Jim, and something in his cries out at the loss.

He’s so overwhelmed by the sounds and smells around him that it doesn’t strike him at first that voices are getting closer; when he realizes he’s not alone, he pulls himself further into the shadows, grateful to be so dark in coloring that he blends into the walls.

It’s a boy and his parents walking down the alleyway, talking and laughing. The boy’s maybe eight or ten, dark-haired, gentle in a way that calls to Oswald’s hurting animal side. The couple is older but looks to adore the child, and Oswald whines completely against his will.

The whole family stops, stares into the darkness, and Oswald slinks further back into his hiding spot. “Hello?” the boy says. “Is someone there?”

“Bruce,” the woman scolds. “It’s probably an animal, don’t go near it. You don’t know if it’s safe or not.”

Oswald lays down on the ground and tries to ignore them. They pass by and it isn’t until he hears a raised voice that he perks up, listens to what’s going on. And then the gunshot sends him to his feet, running toward the source of the noise.

The boy’s screaming and so is the mother, and the man who’s just killed the father waves the gun at them, shouting back. He pulls the trigger as Oswald slams bodily into him, and Oswald doesn’t hesitate; he puts his teeth to the man’s throat and rips, splashing blood and gore everywhere. The man’s dead by the time he hits the ground, and Oswald turns to address the screaming child.

The boy’s still screaming when Oswald approaches, crouched over the body of the dead woman, and Oswald whimpers at him, wishing he could talk.

“MmmMMmmmoooooommmM!” the boy – Bruce – cries. “Ddddaaaaadddd!!!”

Oswald doesn’t know what to do, so he howls loudly, hoping to draw attention. As he yowls, Bruce gasps and hides against his mother’s body. “Please, doggie, don’t hurt me!”

Oswald cocks his head to one side, lowers himself to the ground, and wags his tail. Bruce looks at him, then slowly holds out a tear-stained hand, and Oswald licks it. “Doggie?”

Oswald can’t help it; he steps forward and curls himself around the boy, howling again for help.

“Hey!”

Jim’s voice. Jim’s found Oswald, found them both, and Oswald yips in relief. Oswald closes his eyes, whines loudly, doesn’t leave Bruce’s side. Bruce cries in Oswald’s ruff and makes no move to let go of him. Jim takes in the bodies – all three of them, Oswald knows – and says, “Kid? What happened?”

“Th… the man… he, he had a gun, and if not for the doggie I’d… I’d… my parents’re… I don’t…”

“Okay,” Jim says, and crouches next to both of them. “What’s your name, son?”

“B… Bruce Wayne?”

“Shit,” Jim mutters, too softly for anyone but Oswald to hear. “Okay, Bruce. I’m Jim, and I’m a policeman. Are you hurt anywhere?”

“No…”

“Okay, that’s good. Bruce, the guy you’re hanging onto, his name’s Ozzie. Are you okay with Ozzie being next to you?”

“He saved me!” Bruce wails. “T… the man, he… he was gonna shoot me, an’ Ozzie stopped him, I want my mmmooooomm!”

Jim nudges Oswald to the side, picks Bruce up and cradles the boy to his chest. “I’m going to take you to sit on the fire escape over here,” he says, holding Bruce tightly. “And I’m going to ask you to watch Ozzie for me, because he slipped his leash and that’s how he found you. Okay?”

Bruce nods, and Oswald pins the boy into the fire escape without being told. Oswald’s heart is breaking twice; once for his own sorrows, and now for Bruce’s. “Oz,” Jim orders. “You sit. You stay. And if anyone goes near the boy, you keep them back by any means necessary. Do you understand?”

Oswald barks once and plants himself in front of Bruce’s body, guarding the boy. Jim pats him once on the head, says, “You and I will be having such words later, puppy,” and picks up his cell phone. Oswald’s ears pick up Bullock’s voice saying hello, and Jim says, “Harvey. The Waynes were murdered and I could use your help.”

“What the fuck, Jim.”

“Long story pal, call it in for me, won’t you?”

“Tell me where you are and I’m on my way.”

Jim speaks quickly, quietly; it doesn’t take long for Gotham’s finest to show up. Oswald snarls at everyone who comes near Bruce until Jim says, “Ozzie! Let the paramedics check him out.”

Oswald sits, stares at the two rescue personnel and whines at them. Bruce scratches his ears absently and the EMTs finally can look Bruce over, ensuring he’s all right. 

“You’re a good dog,” one of the two EMTs says, and Oswald licks his hand. “Not as scary as you seem, buddy, huh?”

“He’s a big mush ball when you get to know him,” Jim says, bending down and putting his arms around Oswald’s neck. “Though if he ever runs from me again, I’m going to lock him in his kennel forever.”

Oswald lowers his head and the EMT laughs. “It’s like he understands everything you say.”

“Dogs are smart,” Bruce says, quietly, and Oswald turns his attention back to his new friend. “As smart as dolphins.”

“This guy’s pretty huge,” the EMT says. “What is he?”

“Heinz 57,” Jim replies.

“Hey, partner, you planning on helping me with this over here?” Bullock shouts from the vicinity of the bodies. “I could use your expertise.”

“Excuse me,” Jim says. 

Oswald watches him stride away, turns back to the EMT and Bruce. He barks at the EMT, nudges the man backward and sits down at Bruce’s feet again. “I swear, this guy’s a tough guy.”

Oswald barks again, leans into Bruce’s body so the boy will pet him. “And a complete attention hog.”

Bruce mumbles something that sounds like, “he’s a hero” but Oswald lets it go. He’s no hero. He just happened to be in the alley at the wrong time. Or right time, depending on your viewpoint.

“Buddy? You gonna let me stay with you and Bruce here?” the EMT asks. “Is that okay?”

“His name’s Ozzie,” Bruce says, and of course that’s when Bullock has to show up.

“Ozzie?”

Oswald turns to see Harvey Bullock staring at him. “Jim. You named your dog after the kid?”

And oh. Oh, shit, oh shit, oh shit…

Bullock stares at Oswald. Oswald stares at Bullock. He can see the pieces meld in the detective’s mind and then Bullock snorts. “Wow, I’m getting crazy the longer I work in this town.”

“Why’s that, partner?” Jim asks, coming up to join the grouping.

“Because that damn dog even looks like your houseguest, right down to the eyes.”

“Hence the name,” Jim says, playing it cool. “Ozzie likes having this big guy as his namesake.”

“Yeah, it’s just…”

“Harvey, you wanna sit here and stare at Oswald’s dog, or do you want to come back and see if we can ID the gentleman at the other end of the alley?”

“Yeah,” Bullock finally says. “I guess.”

The two detectives walk away and Oswald lets out a sigh. He listens to their conversation closely, especially as Bullock says, “Is that dog one of the dogs that killed Mooney? Is that why Cobblepot adopted it? Would it have been Cobblepot’s dog that was sent to kill Fish?”

“Harvey…”

“Well, the only other thing I can think of is that Cobblepot’s a werewolf and that he ate Fish Mooney by himself.”

Jim starts laughing. “Harvey! Cut down on the scotch, will you?”

“Yeah,” Harvey says. He chuckles. “No, you’re right. That’s crazy. I need to dial back the late night horror movies.”

“Seriously,” Jim says. “Though I can’t wait to tell the human Oswald that you think he’s a man-eating creature of the night.”

“Kid, you tell him I said anything about him, and I’ll make sure the next body in a trunk’s yours,” Harvey complains. “How’s the little prick behaving, anyway?”

“I have no complaints,” Jim says, and waggles his eyebrows lecherously. Oswald’s embarrassed on Jim’s behalf, especially as Bullock starts ranting about the things he doesn’t need to know or hear about.

“They argue a lot,” Bruce says, digging his fingers into Oswald’s fur. Oswald licks at the boy’s face. “I hope they know what they’re doing.”

“Kiddo, I know those guys,” the EMT says. “They argue all the time, but they’re doing really well by the city. I don’t think you’ll find two better detectives to take care of you. Now I just heard that there’s a Mr. Pennyworth on his way to get you? Do you know him?”

“He’s dad’s butler,” Bruce says. “But I don’t want to leave Ozzie.”

Oswald licks the boy’s face again, doing his best to make Bruce feel safe. The EMT says, “I don’t think your new friend wants to let you leave either. But you heard Detective Gordon. Ozzie’s his dog. Maybe he’ll let you visit Ozzie sometime. Well, if Pennyworth is someone you know, then I’m going to leave you here. I’m sorry for your loss, son.”

“Thanks,” Bruce replies, voice small.

Oswald swears to himself then and there that he’ll find Bruce again, because no one should be abandoned when they need someone. No one.

He glances at Jim, whimpers, and notices how Jim immediately meets his gaze. Oswald doesn’t know if Jim can tell how sorry Oswald is for running away, but he hopes Jim understands.

“Ozzie?”

Oswald swivels his head back to Bruce, stares at a man walking towards them. And he growls, because holy hell – the man walking towards them is something else entirely. Not a man; not quite. Just like Oswald’s not human anymore, neither is, “Alfred!” Bruce exclaims. 

Alfred’s a monster like Oswald is, and Oswald growls low. “That’s enough,” the man called Alfred snaps. He stares down at Oswald, tilts his head curiously. “Where’s your Alpha?”

Oswald doesn’t have time to growl back because Jim appears. Jim and this Alfred size each other up; Jim’s mouth curls into a parody of a smile. “ _Nosferat_?”

“Yes,” Alfred says. He opens his arms and Bruce steps into them. “And you’re the dog’s… owner?”

“I am.”

“We should meet under different circumstances,” Alfred says, looking between Jim and Oswald. “I’d heard of a policeman cleaning up the city, but I was unaware of any other interesting facets of your style of detecting.”

“Indeed,” Jim says. “And I’m sure you would wish to be of help in such cases?”

“My concern is for the boy,” Alfred says, picking Bruce up easily and holding him closely. “And whatever it takes to keep Bruce safe.”

“Then we share a need. I’ll come take a statement from you so we can talk further. Agreed?”

“Agreed. You are most welcome, detective. As I said, your reputation as an honest man proceeds you. And feel free to bring any associates you deem acceptable. Your partner, or whatnot.”

“I will. Thank you.”

Oswald blinks at the speed in which Alfred Pennyworth hustles Bruce away. He whines, looks up at Jim. “You can whine all you want, Ozzie. I’m still pissed at you for running, but could kiss you for taking down Joe Chill over there.”

At Oswald’s confused noise, Jim says, “I’ll explain later. Now do me a favor, stay the hell away from Harvey. Before you give us away.”

Oswald sits down, now alone, and waits for Jim to finish examining the crime scene. He can’t wait to go home and wash all of the bastard’s blood off his coat.

Saving Bruce is worth the bloodbath, he thinks. And maybe meeting Alfred will be a blessing in disguise.


	8. Crossing Channels

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **So..... *cough*  
> **  
>  It's been awhile. Sorry? I have no idea when the urge will strike to post more of this. But enjoy.

Three days later, they stand outside the Wayne mansion, Oswald and Jim; Jim’s left Bullock at the station investigating Joe Chill and his known associates. Bullock doesn’t know that Oswald’s with Jim, and what Bullock doesn’t know won’t hurt him.

“Are you sure you’re up for this?” Jim asks, for the umpteenth time.

“My mother doesn’t want me because I’m worthless in her eyes,” Oswald growls. “And this boy was worth everything, so much that his mother stepped in front of a bullet for him. Yes, I’m sure I want to help with this.”

Jim holds up his hands in pacification. “I was just checking.”

“Besides, we could use all the help we can get.”

The door opens before Jim can reply, and they’re invited inside by none other than Alfred Pennyworth. “Good afternoon, gentlemen,” the butler says. The _Vampire_ says. “It’s nice to see you again, Detective Gordon. And… Ozzie?”

“Oswald Cobblepot,” Oswald introduces himself. “I’m Jim’s.”

“Yes, you are,” Pennyworth replies, glancing at them both. He smiles. “Normally I’m the one who needs the invitation, but please let me welcome you both.”

Oswald can’t help but grin at the pronouncement. “So you mean that’s true?”

“Not at all. But it broke any ice nicely, didn’t it?”

Yep, the butler has a personality buried under the posh accent and manners. Oswald grins. “I’m still learning a lot.”

“You’re young, you have time.”

“How did you come to work for the Waynes?” Jim asks, giving Oswald a gentle smack on the rear. “As this isn’t only a social call, I’m afraid.”

“A long story; the shortest version is that Thomas was a friend and fascinated by my bloodline. He was a believer.”

“He knew?”

“He did, which was why he entrusted his son’s care to me, should anything happen to him and Martha.”

“You’re now the boy’s legal guardian?”

“I am.”

“And does Bruce have any inkling of your nature?”

Pennyworth leads them into what could be called a sitting room, if the sitting room was in a palace. Oswald gingerly lowers himself into a chair and tries not to breathe on anything. “He does not, Detective.”

“But you recognized Oswald for what he was immediately.”

“Yes. Your shift looks remarkably like your human characteristics,” Pennyworth says to Oswald. “I’m surprised the other Detective didn’t put together the connection between your wolf and your human sides. Especially since ‘Ozzie’ is such a rare name in this day and age.”

“He did put it together, in a way,” Jim says, sighing. “And I was left to dissuade him of the notion. Not that it was easy. We had a murder previous to this one.”

“Fish Mooney.”

Both Jim and Oswald blink, and Pennyworth continues, “Thomas was very aware of the slimy underbelly of the city. He read the papers, as do I. I should’ve thought about a werewolf wreaking that sort of havoc, not a dog pack. Was that you?”

“It was me,” Jim says, shocking Oswald. “At the time, Oswald hadn’t yet experienced a shift. Mooney’s associates grabbed him, and as his Alpha, it was my responsibility to rescue him.”

“And so you did,” Pennyworth says. “I’ve not created offspring in a century or so, yet I understand the lengths you’d go to in order to keep your loved ones safe, Detective.”

“Please call me Jim.”

“Then you must both call me Alfred,” Alfred responds. “As we are all men of a similar nature.”

“Thank you,” Oswald says. “Oswald or Oz or Ozzie is fine, I answer to any of them.”

“Of course. In any case, now that I know of the particulars to Mooney’s demise, I’m more intrigued. Why is a wolf hunting mobsters?”

“I believe you may already know the answer to that. I’m a family guardian in the city and my charge has asked that I assist in removing the unwanted elements from Gotham.”

“You mean Barbara Kean.”

“I do,” Jim says. This was a point of contention between Barbara and Jim, Oswald knows. Barbara wanted Jim to be honest with the butler and name her if necessary; Jim hadn’t wanted to do so. Barbara had prevailed by threatening to go to Alfred on her own. “And she’s very forceful in her requests. She wants to be able to reclaim this city for her family, as they’ve had roots here for multiple generations. I gave my word I’d help.”

“And Oswald?”

Jim pauses, looks at Oswald, says, “This is your story to tell.”

Oh. Oswald takes a breath, says, “I worked for Fish Mooney, betrayed her, ended up being walked off a pier. Jim rescued me, took me in, made me know I was worth more than being a gangster. Jim made me his, and I’m glad to belong to him.”

“You’re Omega, then? Not Beta?”

“Yes.”

Alfred raises an eyebrow. “That must be a fascinating dynamic. Normally, an Omega can’t disobey the will of an Alpha, yet I know I heard you chastising Oswald for disobeying you. How does that work?”

“Wait, I shouldn’t be able to disobey your orders?”

Jim groans. “No, you shouldn’t.”

“But I do! All the time!”

“Yes, I know,” Jim says. “Remember I said I’d be more tolerant of your youth and inexperience, Oz? I think that’s why you can get away with things a more traditional Alpha wouldn’t accept. I didn’t want you to stop being Oswald, just because I made you mine. I’ve been lenient at the right times with you. Even the other night, when you ran from me instead of staying by my side.”

“How did you come to be in that alley, Oswald?” Alfred asks. “If you don’t mind my asking.”

“I’d just come out to my mother, and she threw us out,” Oswald says. He swallows a couple times so he won’t cry. “I was upset, ran, ended up by the movie theater. The rest just happened.”

“It seems like divine intervention,” Alfred says.

“You believe in religion?” Oswald blinks. “Aren’t you… you know. Allergic to crosses?”

“Honestly!” Alfred scoffs. “Not at all. Do you fit all of the myths as well?”

Oh. Oswald ducks his head, feeling silly. “No?”

“I suppose my next question won’t come as a shock,” Jim says, putting a hand on the back of Oswald’s neck and giving it a light squeeze. “But are you willing to help us remove undesirable influences from Gotham?”

“No,” Alfred says. “Because I’m going to have my hands full here, raising Bruce.”

“Even if your assistance would mean Bruce gets to grow up in a town free from mobsters?”

“And what happens to him if I die in the process of cleaning up the town? He hasn’t any other family, gentlemen. I am his best and only hope of staying out of the foster care system.”

“I understand,” Jim says, and Oswald nods. It’s not a hard choice. “But we had to ask anyway.”

“If you need research or financial assistance, I would be happy to oblige,” Alfred goes on to say. “If you would like me to call in favors from others like me, who would be willing to step in and help, I would offer that as well.”

“You’ve got Vampire friends?” Oswald asks.

“I do,” Alfred replies. Oswald receives a toothy smile. “And some of them are wonderfully reliable hunters.”

“I may take you up on that someday,” Jim says. “But for now, we’ll hold off. I’ve almost got Victor Zsasz in custody for Mooney’s murder; enough evidence against him to put him away. Harvey and I could have a good connection between Joe Chill and Don Falcone.”

“Don Falcone had the Waynes murdered?”

“I believe so,” Jim says. “Do you have any idea why?”

“No,” Alfred says. “Though I’d like to find out.”

“We will,” Jim says. “Ozzie, you have anything to add?”

Oswald shakes his head no. “Not unless. Um. You mind if I just see Bruce? So I know he’s okay?”

Alfred smiles gently. “I could tell you were fond of my young charge,” he says. “He’s upstairs in his room. Were you thinking of shifting, or did you wish to speak to him?”

“May I speak to him?”

“Yes. Up the stairs, second door on the right. I don’t think I have to tell you to go easy on him.”

“No, you don’t,” Oswald replies, and stands up. “Excuse me, please.”

Oswald slips out of the room and takes the stairs as directed, reaches the second door and knocks. A muffled, “come in” greets him and he opens the door.

Bruce is laying on his bed on his belly, reading a comic book, and when Oswald pushes the door open he looks up. They stare at each other for a minute and then Bruce grins. “You’re Ozzie!” the boy says, delightedly. “You saved me!”

“Well, my dog did,” Oswald starts, but Bruce cuts him off with an impatient noise. 

“No, I mean, _you’re_ Ozzie, the dog. Right?”

Oswald had no idea what to say. “Uh…”

“Alfred and Dad don’t think I know anything but they always talk too loudly,” Bruce says. “I have the Internet, you know. And I’ve seen Teen Wolf on MTV.”’

Oswald gapes unattractively. “Teen Wolf?”

“Sure, it’s about werewolves and vampires and witches and stuff!” the boy says. “Also, I’m nine. I’m not stupid.”

“I… really have no idea what to say to that.”

Bruce stands up and walks over to Oswald, walks around him, staring. “You don’t look big enough to be a werewolf,” the boy announces.

“Did you just call me short?”

“I’m like almost as tall as you are,” Bruce says. His eyes go wide. “You’re not going to eat me now, are you? Because you’re insulted?”

Oswald tries not to focus on the fact that Bruce is as tall as his chin. Damn it. “I’m not really the guy who’d eat anybody. Unless they really deserved it.” 

“Like that guy in the alley.”

“Yeah.”

“I’m glad you were there,” Bruce says, and his face falls. “Dad says… said, there were things in the world bigger than just people, said we were all part of each other. Do you believe that?”

Oswald herds the boy over to the bed, sits him down on the sheets, and then sits next to him so their shoulders touched. “I think so? When I met Jim… that’s the Detective you met, I didn’t know who he was, but he made me a part of his life.”

“Because you’re pack?”

Oswald tips his head to one side. “Yes. Where did you hear that term?”

“TV. I told you, show about werewolves. Though your wolf is cooler looking than the ones on TV.”

Oswald grins. He can’t help it. “Thanks.”

“So can you tell me about it?”

“Being a werewolf?” Oswald’s still not sure he’s really having this conversation. “Or being friends with Jim?”

Bruce rolls his eyes. “Being a werewolf. Does it hurt when you change? Can you talk when you’re in your other form? Do you really freak out at silver and wolfsbane?”

“Whoa,” Oswald says. “I don’t know about some of those things? I mean, I just became a werewolf recently.”

“So someone bit you? Was it Jim? Does that mean if Alfred bit me, I’d be a Vampire? Because I’ve seen Alfred eat pasta, and it’s full of garlic, so I know all of the legends can’t be true.”

Oswald finds himself telling Bruce what he knows in the most PG-rated version possible. This is how Jim and Alfred find them some time later, both stretched out on Bruce’s bed with Oswald doing quick sketches of paws and claws and teeth. “What’re you two doing?”

“Ozzie was explaining what you look like in Alpha shift. Are you really gold?”

Alfred looks horrified; Jim looks royally pissed. Oswald shrinks back. “He already knew,” he says, when the older two men don’t say anything. “He knew the minute he saw me.”

“It doesn’t mean you confirm it,” Jim growls.

Bruce, bless his oblivious heart, says, “I’m glad he told me! It’s not like I didn’t hear dad talking to Alfred about it, I mean, jeez. It’s nice for someone not to treat me like I’m stupid.”

“No one meant to treat you like you were a fool,” Alfred says, hoarsely. “But you’re young, Bruce, and this isn’t something you should’ve been exposed to, yet.”

“Why not? It’s what got Mom and Dad killed, right?”

Oswald blinks, mystified. “What do you mean?” he asks, before either Jim or Alfred can respond.

“The guy in the alley. He said something to dad about sending wolves after fish and how the falcon wasn’t happy about it? I didn’t think it meant werewolves until I saw how Ozzie behaved. Your wolf,” Bruce says. “Cause he got everything Jim said so easily.”

Wolves after fish… Fish Mooney? And the falcon was Falcone, did Falcone have the Waynes killed because he thought the Waynes sent werewolves to kill Fish Mooney? “Oh God,” Oswald blurts, and covers his mouth with his hand. He’s going to be sick, he’s going to throw up, because it’s his fault the Waynes were murdered, the sweet kid next to him was an _orphan_ and it’s _Oswald’s fault_ …

He shoves past Alfred and Jim, practically flies down the stairs and bolts out of the mansion. He makes it to the grass before his stomach rolls and he heaves out his breakfast. He’s sobbing, balls his hands into fists and thumps them into the ground. 

“Oz?”

It’s Jim who’s come to get him. “Oswald,” Jim says again. “It’s not your fault.”

“Of course it is,” Oswald snaps, and gags again. “Falcone has no idea it’s you and me and Barbara; he thinks it must’ve been the _Waynes_ that could afford to hire werewolves to kill Mooney. That boy’s parents are dead because I left the apartment, Jim. You killed her to rescue me because I’m too fucking stupid…”

Jim wraps himself around Oswald, pulls Oswald against his chest. “Stop,” Jim commands, and Oswald falls silent, trembling. “Killing Mooney was always part of the plan. If he didn’t come after the Waynes then, he might’ve in the future.”

“No,” Oswald says. “Because you wouldn’t have left him alive long enough to plan revenge on anyone, right? You’d have systematically eliminated all of them at once. Bruce would still have his parents.”

“Or the Waynes might’ve found a way to work with Miss Kean, and might have been killed anyway,” says a voice from behind them both. 

Oswald looks up to see Alfred standing nearby. “I couldn’t help but overhear the conversation,” he says. He gives Oswald a look full of compassion. “I don’t blame you for their deaths, and I know Bruce wouldn’t either.”

“My life’s not worth theirs,” Oswald cries. 

“Maybe not to you, but it is to your Alpha’s. And anything done with that much love could never be a failing, Oswald. Not for anyone human or otherwise.”

“But you know what I was! Before I met Jim, just months ago, I was one of them! I worked for Falcone, for Mooney, I’m… I’m to blame for so much of this, and I can’t. I can’t tell you how much I’m not worth it!” He brings his hands to cover his face, feeling even younger and more foolish for crying in front of the Vampire and his Alpha. 

“But had you not been there in the alleyway, had you not acted as you did, I might’ve lost Bruce as well,” Alfred explains. “And for that – for saving part of _my family_ – I will never be able to thank you. I loved the Waynes as if they were my own flesh and blood, and to know Bruce could’ve been killed with them, that you jumped in front of a man with a gun to save him? Jim saw right away what I also see: that you’re more than worth saving, boy.”

Jim rocks him and Oswald curls up into his Alpha’s body. “You’re a good boy, Ozzie,” Jim says. “You’re mine and I love you. No one’s mad at you here. All right?”

Oswald sniffs, rubs his face against Jim’s shirt. “I guess,” he replies.

“Maybe you want to put on your fur and go sit with Bruce a while longer? I’d like to talk to Alfred some more, now hearing what Bruce had to say.”

“Did I upset Bruce?”

“He’s worried for his new friend,” Alfred replies. “He didn’t understand what he said that made you feel so badly. I told him that it upset you to have to hurt the man who killed his parents, even though you knew it was the right thing to do. Because you’re not a violent person and the violence bothered you.”

“But I was a violent person,” Oswald says. “I didn’t care who I hurt to try to get where I wanted to go.”

“That was desperation,” Jim says. “I think Alfred’s right. You should shift and keep Bruce company while he and I talk. We might have to make some changes to the master plan again.”

“Why?”

“Because after I heard what Bruce said, I realize that you may be right: that the only way to keep Bruce safe is for me to get involved. Therefore Jim’s going to fill me in while you keep my charge safe.”

Oh. Oswald can do that. “Let’s go inside so I can shift?”

They move into the foyer of the house and Oswald strips down, no longer ashamed of his body. Shifting is quick and painless and he trots up the stairs to poke his snout into the bedroom door. He whines and Bruce says, “Ozzie?”

Oswald nods his head and Bruce pats the bed. Oswald jumps up, turns around in the blanket a few times, and flops over. “Alfred said you might not be a person when I saw you again. He says it really bothered you to kill somebody. Right?”

Oswald whimpers, puts his nose under the blankets, and Bruce sighs. “I didn’t think about what it was like for you,” the boy says. “I miss them, I keep thinking that dad’s going to walk into my room and say something random like he always does, that mom’s going to kiss me good night. I hated it when she did that.”

Oswald lifts his face, licks Bruce’s cheek, and Bruce chokes out a laugh. “Thanks Ozzie. It’s just as easy to talk to you like this as it is when you’re a human. You’re pretty cool for an adult.”

Oswald huffs, turns around and flicks Bruce with his tail. Bruce pets him, and says, “Is this okay?”

Oswald barely refrains from rolling onto his back so Bruce can rub his belly. “I guess it is,” the boy says. “Werewolves are neat. But I still wish I knew more about what Alfred was like as a Vampire. I mean, could he turn into a bat, do you think? I really like bats. I’ve been studying them in school, we’re learning more about mammals in science this year and I think I’m going to do a report on them.”

Ozzie makes an interested noise, and Bruce lays next to him, talking. Oswald dozes off and has no idea how long they stay together; by the next time Jim and Alfred join them, Alfred’s invited them to stay for dinner and has invited Barbara as well. Jim agrees and scratches Oswald. “I need you to wake up and get dressed again,” the Alpha says. “I called Barbie and told here to come here from work, and she’ll arrive soon.”

Oswald nods. Alfred ends up going back downstairs with Bruce in tow, and Jim holds up Oswald’s jeans and shirt. “Come on, shift.”

When Oswald is human again, he says, “I don’t want to put on clothes.”

“You just want to stay here and roll around in Bruce’s bed, huh?”

“I… oh my God, Jim,” Oswald says, eyes flying open wide. “What’s wrong with me? I crawled into bed next to Bruce, you should… I’m sick, I’m…”

“Ozzie!” Jim exclaims, but where Oswald expects to see disgust, he only sees amusement. “Ozzie, stop. You’re not a pedophile and you’re not perving on Bruce, calm down.”

“I’m… I’m not?”

“No,” Jim says. He looks ready to laugh again. “But I thought you might’ve developed a family bond with him the other night and this confirms it.”

“A family bond?”

“Like I have with Barbara. I told you I was her guardian, didn’t I? Sometimes wolves ‘adopt’ people, for lack of a better word. We start considering them kin, loved ones, though they may not be relations to us. You don’t want to have sex with Bruce, right?”

Oswald’s not sure what his face does, but he knows he’s horrified, and Jim snickers. “Right. So, family bond. It explains all of the comfort and affection you feel for him. You can stop freaking out now.”

“Jesus, thank God,” Oswald says. He closes his eyes and takes a few breaths. “Does this mean I’m Bruce’s guardian?”

“No. You’ve not been a wolf long enough to be a true guardian, and guardians normally protect magical entities. Let’s look at it as you’ve adopted a little brother.”

Family. More family than Jim and Barbara and the mother who no longer claims him. “I’d like that.”

“Yeah, I figured. Now come on, pants on. You don’t want Barbara to embarrass you in your underwear, right?”

“Or end up a toad.”

“Exactly,” Jim says, as Oswald dresses. Then, he adds, “I think we have a plan to finish this. If Barbara agrees.”

“What is it?”

“The short version? Alfred’s given us his allegiance for whatever we decide. And I think the best way for us to accomplish this is to give the dons a final push; pit them against each other. And once they meet, we kill them and anyone working with them.”

“How are we going to do that?”

“That’s what we’re discussing at dinner. I’m hoping you don’t mind watching Bruce?”

“But how am I going to know what’s going on?”

Jim frowns. “Ozzie. You’re still young, a puppy, and I thought…”

“You thought what?” Oswald says, slipping into his shoes. “Now you have Alfred and his friends, you won’t need me?”

“And while Alfred and his friends put their thousands of years of experience to use, I wanted you to stay with Bruce and protect him with your life.”

Oswald stops, stares. “You’re serious.”

“Very.”

“So I’m now such a handicap to you, you’re leaving me out of the fight completely?”

“No, I’m leaving you in charge of someone who doesn’t have the ability to defend himself while we eliminate some very evil people. Oswald, think about it. Who’s going to protect Bruce if Alfred’s helping us?”

“You’re making this sound reasonable, which makes me know you’re trying to keep me out of it to keep me safe as well.”

Jim snarls so sharply it makes Oswald jump. “Of course I’m trying to keep you safe, idiot! I love you! How can I possibly worry about Falcone and Maroni and their associates if I’m terrified someone will hurt you?”

Oswald freezes and stares at Jim. “You’re that worried I won’t be able to protect myself?”

“I’d rather not risk it,” Jim says. “You’ve never been in a fight before, let alone this kind of warfare. Even Barbara’s got more experience with this than you. It’s best – safest – to ask you to stay behind and guard Bruce when the time comes.”

“And this will make you happy?”

“Immensely.”

Oswald exhales. “Then I’ll do what you say.”

“I can’t tell you what a relief that is,” Jim responds, dryly.

“But in exchange, you’ll tell me everything about what your plan is. I mean it,” he says, when Jim opens his mouth. “Every. Detail.”

“Yes, Alpha,” Jim says. Ozzie can hear the sarcasm clearly. “Every detail. I promise.”

Oswald grins at Jim. After a moment, he says, “I love you too, you know.”

“I know. But I like hearing you say it.”

“I’m sorry I freaked out earlier. And a few minutes ago.”

“I’m not mad about it. There’s just a lot going on for you to deal with.”

“And my Alpha doesn’t want me directly involved in any of it.”

“Oswald…”

“No, I get it. Really, I get it,” he says. Then he shrugs carelessly. “And for what it’s worth, I’m glad to keep an eye on the kid. He’s not so bad.”

Jim gives him a look and Oswald knows Jim sees right through him. “So he’s not such a terrible kid, then?”

“Eh. He’s okay.”

Jim nudges him. You’re full of crap, puppy. Now quit lying to yourself and let’s go downstairs. We’re going to eat like civilized people and plan a war.”

“Oh good, no pressure.”

He yelps when Jim swats him on the ass, hard enough to bruise. “Jim!”

“I’m gonna spank that ass of yours if you get smart with me,” Jim says, and Oswald would be worried except for the fact that he’s grinning. “Are you going to make me spank you?”

“As long as you let me enjoy it this time,” Oswald sasses. He can feel his cheeks burning, but he perseveres with, “I liked being over your lap and I wouldn’t mind being there again, under different circumstances.”

Jim gawps at him and Oswald smiles. “Cat got your tongue?”

“Oswald Cobblepot,” Jim marvels. “I’m so in love with you right now.”

And what can Oswald do but kiss him?


	9. Gunpowder, Treason and Plot

Dinner starts as a strained affair; Barbara, Jim and Alfred discuss trivial things, even though Oswald can see how much they want to start talking business. To help, he says, “Hey Bruce, you guys got a TV in here?”

The boy startles but nods. Oswald looks at Jim innocently. “Do you guys mind if Bruce and I take our plates and eat elsewhere? Sorry, but the silence in this house is kind of making me crazy.”

“It’s up to Alfred,” Jim says, though he throws Oswald a wink. “It’s not my house.”

“It’s fine,” Alfred replies. The man looks relieved. “Bruce, why don’t you take Oswald to the screening room and put on a film?”

“Or maybe that TV show you were telling me about,” Oswald says, and grins at Bruce. “You know which one.”

The bored, sad look on Bruce’s face is immediately replaced with a smile. “Good idea, Ozzie. Come on.”

They grab their plates and silverware and head out of the room. As he’s leaving, Oswald hears both Alfred and Jim say thank you, and he turns back to quickly shoot both men a smile. He follows Bruce into a separate hallway and Bruce surprises him by saying, “Come with me this way.”

They walk a little further, duck into a sitting room lined with books. “Wow,” Oswald says, blinking. He knows he could easily get lost in the space. “What’re we doing in here?”

“Listening in,” Bruce says. With that, the boy walks up to the corner of the fireplace, pushes against a section of the mantle, and waits.

One of the panels of the wall creaks and slides backwards, and Oswald stares at it wide-eyed. “Um. What?”

“Secret passage. The house is full of them,” Bruce explains. “Come on, follow me. Put your plate down and let’s go.”

“Does anyone else know about this?”

“I think dad and Alfred both know. Knew,” he corrects himself. His eyes fill with tears and spill over, and Oswald quickly sets his plate down and wraps an arm around Bruce’s shoulders. “Thanks,” Bruce mumbles, clinging to the front of Oswald’s shirt. 

“It’s okay,” Oswald replies. “I didn’t know my dad, but I still missed him.”

“You didn’t?”

“Nope. My mom brought me up on her own.” Oswald tries hard not to think about the fact his mother’s disowned him. “She was amazing when I was little, despite the fact that I was kind of a strange kid.”

“Stranger than a kid who lives in a mansion and doesn’t have any friends?”

Oswald’s heart hurts. “How about stranger than a little kid who only spoke Polish and not English, who walked with a limp, and was skinny and sickly?”

Bruce pulls his head back to examine Oswald. “You were?”

“I hated everything but books and old movies,” Oswald replies. “So maybe that’s why I was supposed to find you that night, huh? Cause we’re alike in some ways?”

“Maybe,” Bruce replies. The boy scrubs at his face. “Come on, we’re missing it.”

They walk down a poorly-lit tunnel, twisting and turning in the house until Bruce shushes him. The tunnel widens into a small nook, allowing them to sit down. “Put your ear to the wall and we should both be able to hear,” Bruce says.

Oswald listens hard; he can easily make out the voices on the other side of the wall. He hears Alfred say, “…and that’s all right with you?”

“Yes,” Jim says. “If you want to take your friends and go after Falcone, I won’t stop you. But we’ve still got Maroni to worry about.”

“Maroni will be at his restaurant where he always is,” Barbara says. “And I can very easily trap him in with his men and raze the building down. Leaky gas pipes, so tricky.”

“And untraceable,” Alfred says. “Nicely done.”

“What about the members of the board of Wayne Enterprises?” Barbara asks. “I know Deehan’s crooked. So is Smith.”

“I can’t tie them to anything violent; they’re white-collar crime,” Jim says. “If nothing else, we’ll look for evidence against them when we finish with Falcone and Maroni. Maybe we can prosecute instead of eliminate in those instances.”

Oswald’s stomach clenches at how easily the three toss around the concept of murder; Bruce doesn’t look much better. “Ozzie, they’re…”

“It’s like the man in the alley,” Oswald says. “Sometimes good people have to do bad things because it’s for the greater good.”

“So if Alfred and Jim and Barbara don’t get rid of the mobsters, more people will die?”

“Yes. And some of those other people will be innocent people like your mom and dad,” Oswald says. “I know it sounds bad…”

“No,” Bruce says. His face tells Oswald how determined he is. “It doesn’t sound bad at all.”

“You shouldn’t have had to grow up this fast,” Oswald laments. He thinks about his own childhood, when bullies seemed to be the worst thing out there. “With monsters and magic and mobsters.”

“I haven’t met any monsters,” Bruce replies. “And if I have, then the humans are the monsters, Ozzie.”

“I know.”

They slip back down the corridor, pick up their plates and head toward the home theater. Neither seem particularly hungry, and Bruce turns on the TV. “Do you still want to see Teen Wolf?”

“Sure.”

Half an hour later, Oswald’s not sure Teen Wolf was the best idea, especially as he’s looking at the chopped-in-half remains of Laura Hale. “How does this not scare the crap out of you?” he says, from his corner of the couch. 

Bruce shrugs. “It’s well done, and I like Scott.”

Oswald’s much more interested in Derek Hale, but he wisely keeps his mouth shut. Then something strikes him. “Oh my God, I’m the Stiles to Jim’s Derek,” he says, and sighs.

“I don’t think Derek and Stiles are dating like you and Jim?”

_With all the eye-fucking, who could tell_ , Oswald doesn’t say, but thinks desperately. “You think Jim and I are dating?”

“You guys act like my parents,” Bruce says, making a face. “Looking at each other funny and stuff.”

“You’re _nine_ ,” Oswald reiterates. “What do you know about dating?”

“My friend Selena tells me stuff!” the boy protests. “I know stuff like that, besides, on the show, Danny dances with Scott at prom because Danny likes guys, and it’s not bad that you and Jim are dating, right?”

“No, it’s not bad,” Oswald says. “It’s really, really good. Jim’s a good guy.”

“Because he’s a cop?”

“And because he’s kind, and patient, and treats me well. Don’t date anybody if they don’t treat you well.”

“Eww,” Bruce says. “Who wants to date anyone? Yuck. Selena kissed me once and it was gross.” 

“One day, I hope you remember saying that, so you can mock your nine-year-old self.”

“Whatever.”

They finish the first episode and Oswald excuses himself for a few minutes, walks back to where Jim, Barbara and Alfred are hovering over what looks like city maps. “Hi,” he says, tentatively. “Everything okay out here?”

Barbara beckons him closer and scratches him on the head, making him close his eyes in delight. “All’s going well here,” she says. “What are you and Bruce up to?”

“He’s terrorizing me with young adult TV,” Oswald says, but he grins despite the words. “We’re fine.”

“We’ve still got several hours’ worth of work here,” Alfred says. “If you three would like to take the guest rooms, we welcome you to them.”

Oswald looks to Jim, who nods. “Thank you.”

“My pleasure. Several of my associates will be arriving in Gotham over the next few days, but we can change the linens before they arrive.”

“More vampires?”

“Yes,” Alfred says. “I don’t believe any of them will concern themselves with a wolf puppy, so you won’t be in danger from them.”

“Why would I be in danger?”

Alfred smiles. “Several of my acquaintances are big-game hunters. I didn’t invite them to Gotham, since your Alpha and you are here.”

Big-game hunters? Like… “You mean they’d hunt _me_?”

“Indeed.”

“That’s not comforting! There are werewolf hunters?”

“Ozzie, calm down. No one’s hunting anyone but mobsters,” Jim says, giving Alfred a glare. “You and Bruce won’t be in any danger when the time comes.”

“How long are we talking about? I mean, until something happens?”

“Ten days, give or take,” Barbara says. “And when we make our move, we’ll ask you to stay here with Bruce. Jim said you’re all right with that?”

“Yes,” Oswald replies. “I’m okay with staying with Bruce. But what’re you going to do about Detective Bullock?”

“What do you mean?”

Oswald addresses his Alpha. “Aren’t you worried Falcone and Maroni might try to go after him, too? If they figure out you’re involved?”

Jim frowns. “I don’t see why. Harvey and I aren’t what I would call close.”

“Jim, the man asked you to kill me,” Oswald says, exasperated. “I think you can count that as your bonding experience.”

Alfred raises an eye at the comment, but doesn’t press; Oswald wonders if he’s blundered somewhere. “I mean… I’m sorry, I guess I don’t know what I’m talking about, I’ll butt out…”

“No,” Jim says. “I’m glad you brought it up. I don’t want Harvey caught in the crossfire and if we’re going to do this, we should do it at a time where he’s otherwise occupied. Do you have any suggestions?”

Oswald blinks. “Me?”

“Yes, you.”

“I… I don’t know, I’d have to think about it. It’s too bad he doesn’t have a lady friend.”

“We could hire one to occupy him,” Barbara says, and grins. “Jim, doesn’t Harvey frequent a particular bar?”

Jim nods. “We could use that to our advantage. Good idea. Thanks, Ozzie.”

“It’s no problem. I should probably go…?”

Jim tugs at Oswald’s body until he’s standing in front of Jim. “Thank you, baby,” he says, and gives Oswald a soft kiss. Oswald tilts his face up as Jim touches him. “You’re such a good boy.”

Oswald all but melts into goo. “Thank you, Alpha.”

With that, Jim shoos him away. Oswald manages to get his head together and returns to Bruce. “So what’re they talking about? Still plotting?”

Oswald nods. “Still plotting. Alfred’s asked us to stay the night.”

“Did you want to be dog-Ozzie and sleep at the foot of my bed?”

Oswald gapes and Bruce giggles. “What? It could be fun.”

“You’re a brat!”

“Yup.”

They settle down again into the couches of the viewing room. “Another episode?”

“Okay.”

The show keeps Oswald mentally occupied, but it doesn’t take long for him to fall asleep. He knows he hasn’t slept well since he’d taken Jim to his mother’s, but the strange calm he feels while around Bruce soothes his frayed nerves. When Jim wakes him, he barely stirs. “J’m?”

“Yeah. Alfred’s already carried Bruce up to bed. Seems you both got tired.”

“Nerves,” Oswald yawns. “S’worried about you guys.”

“I know, baby. I’m sorry to make you worry, but it’ll be worth it.”

“Hmm. Good.”

“I’m going to bring you to bed now.”

“Are y’ stayin’?”

“Yes, I’ll stay with you.”

Oswald smiles. “Good.”

Jim carries him up a flight of stairs and down a hall, turns towards a separate wing of the mansion. “Are we there yet?”

“Almost,” Jim says. He shakes his head. “You’re like a little kid.”

“Why’s that?”

“Are we there yet?” Jim asks. Teases. Oswald’s too tired to complain. “Aww, baby, do you need me to tuck you in when I get you into bed?”

“Yes, please,” Oswald replies. “And then I need you to tuck into bed with me and stay there.”

Oswald’s loathe to admit how much he loves the smell of his Alpha’s skin and the warmth of the man’s arms around him. Jim understands it anyway, because he presses a kiss to Oswald’s forehead. “That’s fine, Ozzie. I’ll get you undressed and be right into bed with you.”

Oswald whines as he feels Jim tugging at his clothes. “Lock the door,” he says, when Jim strips him bare.

“Why’s that, Ozzie?”

“Want you,” Ozzie says. Yawns. Still half asleep, and horny now. “Please.”

“I’m not sure I want to take advantage of a sleeping puppy,” Jim replies. “You gonna wake up for me? Huh?”

“Bring your dick over here and we’ll see.”

Jim laughs, a surprised sound, and Oswald gives him a sleepy grin. “Well. Looks like somebody’s greedy tonight.”

“M’scared about what’s coming, but I trust you,” Oswald says. He shrugs, sits up in the bed. “And I want you. I know you’re going to be busy and then you’re going to chase mobsters and I want you now. Before you get too tied up and put me aside.”

“I’m not putting you aside,” Jim protests. “I’m doing this so I won’t have to worry about you in the future.”

“I know,” Oswald says. “But if you’re going to chase mobsters, you can’t be thinking about me while you’re doing it. So I want you to think about me now.”

“Ozzie. I don’t think you understand how much I’m always thinking about you.”

Oswald can’t help but preen at the comment. “Then come show me.”

Jim strips down, clamors over the bed to claim a space between Oswald’s legs. “Tell me what you want.”

“Want you to fuck me.”

“Do you?” Jim asks, nipping blunt teeth against Oswald’s earlobe. “How much?”

Oswald whines, can feel the slickness start between his legs. He spreads his thighs apart so Jim can smell his desire more easily. “So much,” he says, quietly. “My body wants you, but my heart needs you. Please, Jim?”

Jim seems to have no defenses to that. “Ozzie,” he says, closing his eyes. He leans down and presses a soft kiss to Oswald’s mouth. “How do you know just what to say?”

“I don’t know,” Oswald admits. “I’m being honest with you.”

They don’t talk anymore; Oswald’s not sure how he could say ‘I love you’ any more clearly with his mouth than with his body. Jim’s touches say the same thing back to him, the way Jim cups his face and looks into his eyes when they join together. The way Jim’s nose brushes against his own as they move closer and closer together, mouths fused, hands stroking and caressing almost of their own accord.

Oswald knows Jim’s making love to him, knows it in the tiny kisses, the unspoken promise of home between them. It’s not enough for Oswald, who wants to hold on and not let Jim fight the mobsters in Gotham. But he manages not to cry, and eventually falls asleep with Jim knotted inside him, surrounding him with warmth and affection.

He doesn’t like waking the next morning alone.

Oswald dresses in his jeans and shirt; hates wearing yesterday’s laundry and makes a mental note to return to the Kean apartment for a change of clothes, if nothing else. By the time he gets downstairs, he realizes he’s the last one up. And that the number of people in the house has grown to include a few new faces. “Um. Hello?” he says, softly, when three heads snap to study him. “I’m Oz?”

“So you’re the puppy,” the first says, a thick Midwestern accent coloring his voice. Blond, six-three, two hundred pounds and grinning toothily. “Alfie said you were a pretty thing.”

“Can it, Charlie,” twangs the second man. This one’s also blond, but as short as Oswald, and skinny as a rail. “Don’t be a brat this early in the morning, I don’t have the energy to smack the tar outta ya.”

Charlie ducks his head. “No problem, boss. Sorry.”

The third person is a redheaded woman who rolls her eyes at the other two. “Don’t mind them,” she says, waving a hand. “I’m Anna; these two are Charlie and Phillip. We’re friends of Alfred’s. And you don’t have to be afraid of us.”

“Much,” Charlie adds, and grins again. “Maybe only where your virtue’s concerned.”

A low growl from behind Oswald cuts off any response Oswald could make. “His virtue’s not up for discussion,” Jim growls, and Oswald feels the hair at the base of his neck stand up. “Not now, not ever.”

Meanwhile, Phillip’s slugging Charlie in the arm hard. “That’s inappropriate, you ass. If Jim wants your blood, I just may give it to him.”

“Boss! I’m just playin’ with the kid,” Charlie defends himself by stepping out of range of the smaller man’s swats. “C’mon, don’t be ornery. I didn’t mean nothin’ by it.”

“Neither Jim nor Oswald know that,” Anna says, crossing her arms over her chest. “Stupid.”

“Okay, okay, Gawd Almighty,” Charlie says. “I can’t fight with both of ya, I’m sorry, Oz, I was just teasin’ a little. No bloodshed please?”

Oswald can’t help but watch the three of them with some sense of amusement. “No harm done,” Oswald says, offering the trio a shy smile. His smile widens as Jim presses his chest against Oswald’s back. “Besides, no one wants to stain the rugs in here, right?”

“Exactly,” Charlie says. “So I’m Charlie, Anna’s my sister. Phillip’s her husband, and our Maker.”

“Clearly love made me blind,” Phillip drawls. “In order to make Anna my wife, she was bound and determined for me to turn her little brother as well. Now we’re stuck with him. Do you know what eternity’s like with the most annoying in-law in the world?”

“Aww, Phil. You know you care.”

Phillip makes a seesawing motion with his hand and that, of all things, is what prompts Oswald to giggles. This time, it’s Anna who says, “Oh my gawd, he really is a cutie pie, isn’t he.”

“Yes,” Jim says, and the scowl in his tone relaxes into something less hostile. “He is, and he’s mine.”

Oswald blushes. “For the record, I’m okay with being Jim’s, and not looking for anything else.”

“Aww, puppy’s loyal,” Charlie says. “Sweet on your Alpha, huh? Well, all right, then. Never hurts to try.”

“Charlie’s got quite the reputation back home,” Phillip says, gesturing to the bigger man. “He’s got a lot of admirers.”

“Hey, no need to limit myself to one food group,” Charlie replies, shrugging. This time, he flashes a bit of fang. “Like me a buffet. Reckon some nights should be Chinese, some nights Italian, some nights French…”

It takes Oswald a moment to realize the other man’s not talking cuisine, but people. “You… eat people?”

“Tiny sips, here and there. Ain’t killed nobody in years, and they all thank me for the experience of a bite afterwards. Wanna find out?”

But he’s grinning again, and Oswald realizes the other man’s nothing more than a giant tease. “Hmm. No thanks. I’m a one-cop kind of boy. He’s got more than enough bite for me.”

Charlie nods approvingly. “You’re alright, puppy. I think we’re gonna get on fine.”

“Not if his Alpha beats you to death for flirting with Oswald,” Anna says. “But maybe we could join the others in the dining room for breakfast, before we get blood on the rugs after all?” 

Oswald hangs back for a moment with Jim. “You’re really not going to beat him to death, are you?”

“I don’t like how he looks at you,” Jim says. But he doesn’t look angry. “Like you’re a challenge and a reward wrapped into one package.”

“I am a challenge and a reward,” Oswald teases, and giggles when Jim swats him on the ass. “But for you, not him. So you don’t have to worry about me, because I only have eyes for one man.”

With that, he bats his eyelashes at Jim. “I wouldn’t be averse to you putting some sort of claim mark on me, though.”

Jim starts laughing. “Ozzie,” he says. “You smell like my come. Trust me, that’s a pretty big claim.”

“I… what?” Oswald squawks. “What do you mean, I smell like your come?”

“Baby, you didn’t take a shower this morning, did you? Because if you did, you didn’t wash well. I can still smell my come inside you, and vamps have just as keen noses. Charlie knows exactly who you belong to and is flirting with you anyway. That’s what pissed me off more than anything.”

Oswald can’t move past the part where he smells like the sex he and Jim had the night before. “I have to go shower,” he determines, and is caught up in Jim’s grasp. “Jim!”

“They already know,” Jim says. “And I’m hungry, and I like you smelling like our sex. Makes me want to mount you like an animal.”

Oswald works very hard to keep his knees from going out from under him. “Well, um. Okay,” he says. “Maybe we can work on that mounting after breakfast?”

“I like the way you think.”

Oswald giggles again, follows Jim into the main dining room. When they arrive, he smiles at Bruce. “Good morning.”

“Hi Ozzie!” Bruce exclaims. “You’ve missed the planning thus far. And it’s pretty neat meeting everyone.”

“How’d you get an invite to this?” Oswald wonders aloud, and Bruce blushes. “Did you sneak in?”

“Ain’t nobody sneakin’ where I can hear,” Charlie says. He sits in a chair next to Bruce and ruffles the boy’s hair. “Caught him in the hallway listenin’ in. Alfred said we might well have him join us, since he’s gonna be more trouble if he don’t know what’s goin’ on.”

Oswald grits his teeth and tugs Bruce out of the chair, away from the giant of a vampire. “Bruce’s smart. Curious. It’s a good thing, not trouble.”

Charlie nods. “I know. I told Alfie I’d be happy to stay here, watch you two while the others went huntin’. Boy’s clever,” he says, nodding to Bruce. “Got a steel spine, reminds me a little of my son.”

Oswald gapes. “You have a kid?”

“Fore I was turned, managed to make sweet, sweet music with a little Arkansas miss,” Charlie says. He holds out a hand. “Honest, kid, I was just messin’ with ya. My grandkids are older ‘n you, and if you ain’t interested, you ain’t interested. But I mean it, ya want me to stick ‘round and help you keep an eye on the boy, I’m your man. I don’t like no man who tries to hurt a child, won’t put up with that. Seems like you can use a little lookin’ after yourself.”

“Jim’s good at that,” Oswald replies. “He looks out for me.”

“Your Alpha’s gonna be busy watchin’ everyone else, make sure no horseshit mobster slips out fore we can put a hurt on ‘em. I’m tellin’ you, Phil and Anna can go hunt if they want, and they’ll do your mate proud. Me? More a lover than a fighter.” 

Oswald pictures the big man brawling in a bar, can picture it easily, and says, “Not a fighter?”

“Well,” Charlie hedges. “Not so much anymore, maybe. Not so fair to beat up a drunken asshole when you got a supernatural advantage. Used ta be so much more challengin’.” 

“Bruce, listen to Uncle Oswald,” Oswald says, seriously. Bruce nods. “Never grow up to be like Charlie.”

Charlie’s laugh booms off the walls; Bruce grins. Jim gives the three of them a quick glance, notices Oswald’s flushed cheeks, and growls. 

Just another breakfast on a normal day.

And the days become normal; the extra people become normal. Barbara takes Oswald back to the apartment so he can pack a few bags of clothes and such; it seems they’re all staying in Wayne Manor – Jim, Barbara, Oswald, and about ten vampires of varying strength and savagery. Oswald doesn’t put himself in the middle of the discussion often, finds he’s content to sit on the outskirts of the planning while Jim leads the way. Oddly enough, the people he most often finds himself with are Bruce and Charlie – whose name is actually Charles Davis (‘ancestor of Jefferson Davis himself’). Not his Alpha.

They’re sitting in the library, Charlie and Oswald in two oversized chairs by the fireplace; Bruce is on the second floor with his nose in a book. Oswald keeps an eye on the child; Charlie’s keeping his eyes on Oswald.

“You know he ain’t gonna ignore you forever,” Charlie says, breaking the quiet between them. “Feels like he don’t love you no more, but he’s doin’ this for you, you know.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Oswald huffs. 

“An’ shit ain’t brown,” Charlie says, rolling his eyes. “Damn, boy, but I thought you were smarter ‘n that. You’re Alpha’s a good man, an’ he deserves your respect. Anna ‘n Phil think he may shit rainbows with his strategizin’, but it’s the way he looks at you that gets me. That man’s drivin’ himself to exhaustion to fulfill his promise to Barbara, but he ain’t doin’ it for Barbara no more. He’s doin’ it for you.”

“It would’ve been safer for all of us to have left. I told him I knew he’d forget about me while he was planning for this, and I know he hasn’t forgotten me, per se, but… I miss him.”

“Nut up.”

Oswald blinks. “Excuse me?”

“Nut up. Sac up. Find your damn balls, boy. You gonna run your whole life, let someone else suffer with the assholes in this town? Or you gonna support your Alpha when he needs you, not lose your faith so easy?”

“I haven’t lost my faith in Jim!” 

“I call bullshit. You’re whinin’ cause he ain’t paid you no mind for a few days, boo hoo, he don’t love you no more. Bullshit. You better get brave and get ready to fight if you need to.”

“I thought that’s what you were for?”

And no, Oswald reflects, that doesn’t sound bitter. Charlie just glares at him, and he relents with, “You mean more than a physical fight.”

“Yes I do. Now, just for shits and grins, let’s say some asshole guts me and I’m down for the count. Just you and the kid left – you gonna pussy out on him if he needs you?”

“Of course not!”

“Then stop pussying out now. Lordy, but you’re a high-maintenance puppy.”

Oswald flips him off, notices the half-smile on Charlie’s face. “At least I don’t sound like I crawled out of a cow pasture.”

“I’d rather be a hick than a pussy, Oz. At least I can look myself in the mirror at the end of the day.”

That stings for its honesty and Oswald flinches. Charlie notices it and sighs. “Look, I ain’t tryin’ to get in your head, not really. But you need to remember you got that steel in your spine, too. Jim told us how you didn’t quit when you went after the man who killed Bruce’s parents, you didn’t leave that boy when he needed you. You gotta dig deep, find that fire again. You’ll need it, okay?”

Oswald nods. “Good. Now go find your man and give him a reason to take a break with you someplace quiet, fore you shake outta your skin. Damned but if you aren’t a little bit of sugar. Git, before I take a bite myself.”

Oswald grins, glances up at Bruce, and then back to Charlie. “Don’t worry about the kid, I ain’t gonna eat him. I like my victims willing and sex-stupid, and he sure don’t fit that bill.” 

Oswald laughs and disappears to find Jim. He’s got an Alpha to seduce.


	10. The Moment of Truth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The final chapter - at long last.

It’s all going too smoothly, and Oswald is nervous. Charlie’s patrolling the outside of the mansion; Barbara and Alfred have both checked in to confirm that Maroni is dead, Harvey is safe.

He has yet to hear from Jim.

“Ozzie?”

Oswald leaps off of the couch, spins on his heels. “Bruce! Don’t sneak up on me like that.”

Bruce rolls his eyes. “Sorry. I didn’t realize I had to worry about startling a werewolf.”

Oswald tones down a sharp reply when he sees the lack of color in the boy’s face. “S’okay. I’m probably not being a great role model for how badass werewolves are supposed to be, huh.”

Bruce shrugs, and Oswald pats the seat next to him. “Come here. You want to watch something on TV?”

“I really want them all to come home.”

The reply’s so quiet, Oswald knows it’s only his supernatural hearing that allows him to catch Bruce’s reply. “I’m scared, too,” he responds, cuddling Bruce into his side. “I can’t wait for Jim to call and give the all-clear.”

“It’s not fair,” Bruce says, curling closer to Oswald. “They’re all so brave and strong and stuff, and yet I can’t wait for this to be over because…”

Bruce yelps as the power flickers off around them, plunging the room into darkness. “Ozzie?”

Oswald yanks his phone from the table and unlocks it, dialing Charlie. As soon as the Vampire’s phone connects, he says, “Charlie, what the hell…”

“Charlie? Was that his name?” a voice that most definitely is _not_ Charlie’s asks. 

“Who is this?” Oswald snarls.

“Come on, Penguin,” the voice replies. “Don’t you recognize an old friend when you hear one?”

It takes a moment, and then Oswald realizes who he’s talking to.

Victor Zsasz. 

“Victor, what did you do with Charlie?”

“Drove a stake through what was left of his heart, of course,” the assassin replies. “Surely you didn’t think I’d let him go.”

“But, how…”

“I’m a Reaper, foolish boy.”

Oswald lifts Bruce to his feet and starts pulling the boy toward the sitting room and the secret passage that lay within it. “I don’t know what that is, Victor.”

“I’m a collector for Death. But working for Don Falcone, that was a pleasure you and that damned Alpha of yours ruined.” 

Oswald’s heart stops. “What did you do to Jim?” he demands.

Grating laughter answers him. “Penguin, penguin,” the assassin says. “Your little detective is safe as houses from me. Unfortunately, he killed Don Falcone and left me without any prospective victims here in Gotham. Now I have to move on, and it’s such a bore.”

“But then, why are you here?”

“Because I won’t kill your detective, but he still needs to be punished for causing me such an inconvenience. So I have to kill you, instead.”

Oswald freezes, looks at Bruce. “Me?”

“Hmm,” Zsasz replies. Oswald hears glass breaking from down a hallway. “Just you. I’ve no interest in the brat you’re protecting.”

“Ozzie, what’s he saying?”

Oswald shushes Bruce, but it’s too late; Zsasz laughs. “Is he right next to you, _Ozzie_? Poor brat, I may have to kill him after all.”

“You won’t touch him!” With that, Oswald closes the connection between them and throws his phone as far as he can down the hallway. Then, he shoves Bruce into the sitting room and says, “Open the passageway and get in.”

“But, Ozzie!”

“Now!” Oswald shouts. “Do it!”

Bruce fumbles in the dark, slivers of moonlight through a window his only defense. He stumbles into the passage, turns to Oswald, and says, “Come on, you too…”

Oswald pulls the lever for the door and shoves a handful of books under it, trapping Bruce in the passageway alone. “I’m sorry,” he calls through the wall. “I’m sorry, please be quiet, please forgive me.”

Bruce’s cries are muffled, and Oswald moves towards the fireplace. He grabs a poker and listens to the footsteps in the hall coming toward him. “Pen-guin,” Zsasz coos at him. “Come out, come out, wherever you are!”

“I’m here,” Oswald calls back. “I’m here, you bastard, come and get me!”

Oswald tries not to acknowledge how much his hands shake, or how terrified he is.

Zsasz pushes the door open, notes Oswald’s stance by the fireplace, laughs at him. “Do you really think that’s your best weapon, Penguin? Not even going to try for your teeth, or your claws?”

“I…”

“But you can’t take an Alpha form,” the other man continues. “Just a sweet Omega, aren’t you? Nothing threatening about you. Maybe I’ll take my time with you before I kill you. Enjoy it awhile, watching you beg. I take it the boy’s been told to run and hide somewhere else in the house?”

“I won’t let you touch him.”

“It won’t matter what happens, once I kill you.”

Oswald half-lowers the poker, stares at the other man’s face. He thinks of how huge Charlie was, how imposing, how old and potentially terrifying. “How’d you get the drop on Charlie?”

“Nothing can kill me,” Zsasz boasts. “I’m immortal, unlike your large, stupid friend.”

Oswald thinks about Zsasz, thinks about Death, his own mortality. Thinks about the last time he was about to die.

Thinks about Jim saving his life, and knows that this time, he has to save himself. But how?

“So is serving Death like serving a crime boss?”

Zsasz lets out a long sigh. “Do you really think I’m going to let you keep talking so you can stall for time? Your detective’s never going to get here soon enough to save you.”

“No,” Oswald says. “I know, I’m… I’m just curious. I… you can’t be killed, right? So you should be able to answer me without it being a big deal.”

“Maybe a little like a crime family, then,” Zsasz replies. “But do you think it’s going to save you? That Death is like a mafia don?”

“Maybe,” Oswald says. He takes a deep breath, and says clearly, “I’m sure Death wouldn’t want to know that a Reaper is cheating him, wouldn’t he? I wonder what deal he would make me, to put you in your place?”

Zsasz lets loose a noise between a snarl and a roar, springing toward Oswald with his fingers bent like claws. Oswald raises the fireplace poker, swinging it like a baseball bat. It connects with a solid ‘crack’, but when Oswald opens his eyes, Zsasz is gone.

“I’m not fond of being cheated,” says an inhuman whisper behind him, causing him to yelp and spin around. “I’m also not fond of foolish mortals involving themselves in my affairs.”

Oswald’s eyes dart around the room, sees nothing but shadows. “Hello? Who’s there?”

“You called me,” the voice replies, silk and ice sliding across Oswald’s skin. “Don’t you know what I am, child?”

“I’m not going to be frightened of the dark,” Oswald lies. “Show yourself!”

“I am the dark,” the voice replies. “I am the light. I am the beginning of time, and the end. I am not to be cheated.”

“You were being cheated by Zsasz,” Oswald disputes. “He said so. He made deals with mobsters and took lives without you knowing it.”

A fierce sound echoes around the room and Oswald flinches. “You cheated me as well, little wolf. You who should have died on a dock, instead bitten by an Alpha. Who is the cheater now?”

“I didn’t do it on purpose!” Oswald yelps. “And I would gladly…”

When he hesitates, the voice purrs, “Yes?”

“I would gladly give myself up to keep the rest of them safe,” Oswald finishes, slamming his eyes closed. “I… please. Don’t let Zsasz come back and hurt Jim. Or Bruce, or Barbara, or even Harvey or Alfred or…”

“Enough!”

Oswald shuts up. A touch to his arm has his eyes going wide. Before him stands a thin specter of a man, with dark clothes, pale features, and fathomless eyes. “You would give me everything to keep them safe?”

“Yes,” Oswald says, without hesitating. Even though he’s shaking like a leaf. “Anything. I’ve just… I’ve caused them all enough hurt, and it’s not fair to ask them anything more. I want to protect them now as they’ve protected me. Please.”

Death – for he can only be Death – circles Oswald like a predator. Oswald shakes; this is something more than Jim has ever intimidated him with. “You’re very brave for offering,” Death says. “What if I were to make you a reaper, like Zsasz? What if I were to take your soul from your body, leaving you a husk of a man?”

Oswald’s mouth goes dry. He blinks, ignoring the feeling of tears pooling in the corners of his eyes. “Would you let the rest of them be safe?”

“Maybe.”

“Then no deal,” Oswald says. “Only if they’re safe, that’s the bargain I want.” 

“Nothing for yourself?”

“That’s it. I’ll beg you, please…”

“Hush, little wolf.” Death stops walking, stands behind him. “For one who started off on such a dark path, you’ve certainly changed your values.”

“I… what?”

“Prepare a noble death song for the day when you go over the great divide,” Death says, and smiles with shark’s teeth. “You changed your song midway. It’s not a simple task, is it? To change the path laid at your feet, no matter who guides your way?”

“I don’t understand,” Oswald says, helplessly. “Did… did I do something wrong?”

“You did something right,” Death replies. And the shark-tooth grin fades into something soft; the spectral features blur into something all-too-human. “You turned your back on the violence within all men, Oswald. You cheated me when you chose Jim to carry out your execution, and I was prepared to hold it against you. How was I to realize you’re nothing but a child, that needed a better teacher?”

“I’m not a child,” Oswald protests. “But why would that matter to you?”

“The dysfunction of your leg should have killed you as a child. Your environment should have killed you; your association with the mob should’ve killed you. Every turn, you should have been in my hands, and every time I came close to collecting you, something stopped my hand. Perhaps yours is a path not yet ready to close, waiting for something bigger. Something like cleaning the city of Gotham? Something like falling in love with an Alpha, marked for an extended life of his own.”

“Does that mean you’re going to kill me?”

“No,” Death says, smiling. “But I’m going to take a promise from you. The boy you protect, he is nothing to you.”

“That’s not true!”

“Isn’t it? Not family, not blood. Nothing.”

“He’s my friend. I care about him.”

“And would you vow to protect him in all things? I have use for such a wolf, one who would guard a child such as the Wayne boy.”

“You’re not planning on hurting Bruce, are you?”

“No. I intend for him to have a different path. One that, without his parents, would be hard for him to achieve otherwise. Would you guard him, little wolf? Would you swear to me your faithfulness?”

“I would’ve guarded him without meeting you,” Oswald says. “I would’ve laid down my life for him, for my Alpha.”

“Then we have a deal,” Death says. He grins again. “Would that I might’ve found a use for you years ago, Oswald Cobblepot. I would have had so many plans turn out in a better way.”

“Thank… you?”

The room goes cold, dark as pitch, and then the lights of the house come up. Oswald looks around, anxious, but it’s as if the discussion never happened. 

“Ozzie!”

Oswald turns in time to catch the young boy as he comes barreling out of the passageway. “Ozzie, what happened? Is it safe?”

“I think so,” Oswald replies. “I think Zsasz is gone. I think we’re okay.”

They cling together; Bruce shakes in Oswald’s grasp, and Oswald pets the boy’s head and back to calm him. “Jim should be back soon,” he says, cuddling Bruce closer. “It’ll be okay when Jim gets here.”

No sooner do the words leave his mouth than the front doors bang open, causing both Bruce and Oswald to jump. That is until they hear a litany of voices calling for them – Jim, Barbara, Alfred.

“Are you all right?” Jim snarls, gathering Oswald into his arms. “Did he touch you?”

“We’re fine,” Oswald replies. “And you wouldn’t believe what happened if I told you.”

“Where you’re concerned, Ozzie, I wouldn’t put anything past you.”

Oswald smiles. “I might surprise you with this one. But I think we’re getting our happy ending anyways.”

~Fin~


End file.
